"Shall I?" she asked.
"You have my permission. You say you can do with men and women what you will. He will be a rich man one of these fine days. Make him marry you."
The curate's distress was piteous.
"Aunt! Have you any sense of shame?"
"Suppose I try," observed Miss Vesey, her face alive with laughter. "I'm sure I'm poor enough, and I'm already connected with the clergy."
"Aunt, I entreat you, come away. If you will not come, then I must go alone. I cannot stay to see the Church insulted."
Miss Macleod turned to Miss Vesey.
"Will you let him go?"
"Certainly not," laughed the young lady. "If only to pay him out for being so ungallant."
The Rev. Alan--literally--wrung his hands.