But when the door opened a tall, fair-haired, good-looking young fellow, who from his costume had evidently just come up from the tennis-court, came bursting in impulsively.
"Oh, I say!" he began, "have you heard—have you seen? Oh, beg pardon, didn't see, you know!" he added, as he noticed the extraordinary fact that Flushington had people up.
"Oh, let me introduce you," said Flushington, with a vague idea that this was the proper thing to do. "Mr. Lushington, Mrs.—no, I don't know her name—my aunt—my cousins."
The young man, who had just been about to retire, bowed and stared with a sudden surprise. "Do you know," he said slowly to the other, "I rather think that's my aunt!"
"I—I'm afraid not," whispered Flushington; "she seems quite sure she's mine."
"Well, I've got an aunt and cousins I've never seen before coming up to-day," said the new-comer, "and yours is uncommonly like the portrait of mine."
"If they belong to you, do take them away!" said Flushington feebly; "I don't think I can keep up much longer."
"What are you whispering about, Fred?" cried the aunt. "Is it something we are not to know?"
"He says he thinks there's been a mistake, and you're not my aunt," explained Flushington.
"Oh, does he?" she said, drawing herself up indignantly. "And what does he know about it? I didn't catch his name—who is he?"