"I had an offer of marriage made me."
Eleanor Leigh's face changed—at first it grew a shade whiter, then a shade redder.
"I know who it was," she said quickly.
"Oh!" Mr. Leigh shut his lips firmly. "I did not know."
"She is a cat! She has been sending me flowers and opera tickets all winter, and deluging me with invitations. I knew she was up to something." She spoke with growing feeling, as her father's eyes rested on her placidly with an amused expression in them. "I wouldn't be such easy game. Why, dad, she'd bore you to death—and as to me, I wouldn't live in the house with her—I couldn't." She stood with mantling cheek and flashing eye, a young Amazon girded for battle.
"I will relieve you," said her father. "It is not the feline-natured lady you have in mind; but a person quite different." Miss Eleanor looked relieved.
"Dad—it couldn't be—it was not Aunt Sophia? That would explain a lot of things. You know I think she's been laying some snares lately. She even forgave me when I told her the other evening that that was the last time I would ever accept an invitation from Mr. Canter, even as a favor to her. Dad, she'd make you miserable. You couldn't."
"No," said Mr. Leigh. "In fact, it was not a lady at all. It was a person of the opposite sex, and the proposal was for your hand."
"Dad! Who was it? Now, dad." She moved around the table to him, as Mr. Leigh, with eyes twinkling over his victory, shut his mouth firmly. "Dad, you'd just as well tell me at once, for you know I am going to know, so you might as well tell me and save yourself trouble. Who was it?"
Mr. Leigh took her firmly by the arms and seated her on his knee.