"But, aunty, didn't it ever seem that way to you, sometimes?"
Aunt Matilda was shocked and silent for a moment, then over her pale cheeks crept a pink flush.
"I'll not deny," she presently confessed in a hesitant voice, "that if we had not had each other to rely upon for firmness we might perhaps have been deluded by some of these young scapegraces. They were truly quite appealing at times. There was one in particular—"
Again Aunt Matilda became lost in meditation. The young man in the pool swore softly, even though he perceived the tear that trembled upon the lady's eyelash. It was impossible to be sympathetic while a leech was fastened to his ankle.
"My mother must have thought the way I do, I am sure," persisted Adnah. The remark brought Aunt Matilda out of the past with a jerk.
"Your poor mother had the most pitiful experience of all, child," she replied. "She married. Shortly after you were born, she died, fortunately spared all knowledge of your father's faithless fickleness. Adnah, he, too, married again! You, Adnah, was too young to protect yourself from a stepmother, but we came to your rescue. Your great uncle, Peter, had just died and left us this fine estate, and here we are, trying to shield you from the wiles of the destroyer, man!"
"Some men must be nice, or so many, many girls would not want them," commented Adnah, still unconvinced.
"I'll not deny, dear, that some of them seem quite nice," admitted the other with a sigh. "There was one in particular—"
The dogs interrupted at this moment with a racing struggle for some red and brown object.
"Now what has Castor got?" cried Adnah, jumping up to give chase in a healthy and delightful burst of speed.