d Fanny. "What
is the matter with you?"

"He doesn't want to go because he doesn't like this man Morgan."

"Good gracious!" Fanny cried impatiently. "Eugene Morgan isn't in your
father's thoughts at all, one way or the other. Why should he be?"

George hesitated. "Well--it strikes me--Look here, what makes you
and--and everybody--so excited over him?"

"Excited!" she jeered. "Can't people be glad to see an old friend
without silly children like you having to make a to-do about it? I've
just been in your mother's room suggesting that she might give a little
dinner for them--"

"For who?"

"For whom, Georgie! For Mr. Morgan and his daughter."

"Look here!" George said quickly. "Don't do that! Mother mustn't do
that. It wouldn't look well."

"Wouldn't look well!" Fanny mocked him; and her suppressed vehemence
betrayed a surprising acerbity. "See here, Georgie Minafer, I suggest
that you just march straight on into your room and finish your dressing!
Sometimes you say things that show you have a pretty mean little mind!"

George was so astounded by this outburst that his indignation was
delayed by his curiosity. "Why, what upsets you this way?" he inquired.

"I know what you mean," she said, her voice still lowered, but not
decreasing in sharpness. "You're trying to insinuate that I'd get
your mother to invite Eugene Morgan here on my account because he's a
widower!"

"I am?" George gasped, nonplussed. "I'm trying to insinuate that you're
setting your cap at him and getting mother to help you? Is that what you
mean?"

Beyond a doubt that was what Miss Fanny meant. She gave him a white-hot
look. "You attend to your own affairs!" she whispered fiercely, and
swept away.

George, dumfounded, returned to his room for meditation.

He had lived for years in the same house with his Aunt Fanny, and it
now appeared that during all those years he had been thus intimately
associating with a total stranger. Never before had he met the
passionate lady with whom he had just held a conversation in the hall.
So she wanted to get married! And wanted George's mother to help her
with this horseless-carriage widower!

"Well, I will be shot!" he muttered aloud. "I will--I certainly will be
shot!" And he began' to laugh. "Lord 'lmighty!"

But presently, at the thought of the horseless-carriage widower's
daughter, his grimness returned, and he resolved upon a line of conduct
for the evening. He would nod to her carelessly when