"Do you think your pretense of guileless candour is disarming me, young man?"
"I haven't the slightest hope of disarming you or of concealing anything from you."
"Follows," she rejoined ironically, "that there's nothing to conceal. Bah!"
"Quite right; there is nothing to conceal."
"What do you want with her, then?"
"Initially, I want her to catalogue my collection; subsequently, I wish to remain friends with her. The latter wish is becoming a problem. I've an idea that you might solve it."
"Friends with her," repeated Aunt Hannah. "Oh, my!
"'And angels whisper
Lo! the pretty pair!'
"I suppose! Is that the hymn-tune, James?"
"Precisely."