was at that moment writing to Lord Lossiemouth.

She "had a feeling" that this was the case. The feeling became in a
second a rooted conviction. The butler came in, arranged an
uncomfortable Indian table, placed a brass tray with tea things on it
before Lady Blore, and asked if there were any more letters for the
post. Aunt Mary was in the act of giving him one when Aunt Aggie
intervened.

"Don't," she said in wild agitation, clasping her hands. "Mary, I beg of
you, I conjure you not to post that letter."

"Why not? I have resolved to give him another chance."

"Keep it back one post, I implore you. I have a reason."

Aunt Mary looked attentively at her sister, and took back the letter.
It was not like her to give way. She seemed less overbearing than usual.

"Well? Why not employ him again?" she said wearily. "The Irish butter is
the cheapest after all. Why do you make such a point of my leaving him."

Aunt Aggie was entirely nonplussed. A thousand similar experiences had
never lessened the shock of the discrepancy between what she expected
her sister to say, and what she actually said.

"I thought, I thought," she stammered, "I felt sure that, I see now I
was wrong, but I had a conviction that that letter--you see I knew you
were thinking of writing--was to, was in short to Lord Lossiemouth."

Aunt Mary's face became magenta colour.

"To Lord Lossiemouth! Why should you think I was writing to him?"

"Well, I could not help knowing--don't you remember how you discussed
the subject with me and dear Magdalen some weeks ago?--that the subject
of a judicious and dignified letter was in your mind."

"I was careful not to mention the subject to Magdalen in your presence.
I see now that you must have listened outside the door."

Aunt Aggie experienced a second shock. How did Mary always spy out these
things?

"I can't think," continued Lady Blore, "how you can lower yourself to
eavesdrop in the way you do; and if you must do these underhand actions,
why you don't conceal them better. When you read a private letter of
mine the other day, because I inadvertently left it for a moment on my
writing-table----"

"You always say you lock up your private letters, you do, indeed, Mary.
_Be_ fair. I could not _tell_ it was private."

"You would have been wiser not to have alluded next day to its contents.
If you had not done so I might not have known you had read it."

Aunt Aggie burst into tears.

"The truth is I