"Come on, Aunt Catherine," Thorold said, as she paused at
the door,—"come in, come in, and kiss her—this little darling is mine."
Miss Cardigan came in slowly. I could not look up.
"Kiss her, Aunt Catherine," he repeated; "she is mine."
And to my great dismay he set her the example; but I think it was partly to reassure me, and cover my confusion, which he saw.
"I have kissed Daisy very often before now," said Miss Cardigan. I thought I discerned some concern in her voice.
"Then come, do it again," said Thorold, laughing. "You never kissed her as anything belonging to me, Aunt Catherine."
And he fairly laid me in Miss Cardigan's arms, till we kissed each other as he desired. But Miss Cardigan's gravity roused me out of my confusion. I was not ashamed before her; only before him.
"Now, Aunt Catherine," he said, pulling up a comfortable arm chair to the corner of the hearth, "sit there. And Daisy—come here!"
He put me into the fellow chair; and then built up the wood in the fireplace till we had a regular illumination. Then drew himself up before the fire, and looked at his aunt.