she has a weakness for picture hats, and she can't say
boo to a goose.'

'Who is Amelia?' asked Boulger.

'Amelia is Mr. Lomas' affianced wife,' answered the lady, with a
provoking glance at him.

'I didn't know you were going to be married, Dick,' said Lady Kelsey,
inclined to be a little hurt because nothing had been said to her of
this.

'I'm not,' he answered. 'And I've never set eyes on Amelia yet. She is
an imaginary character that Mrs. Crowley has invented as the sort of
woman whom I would marry.'

'I know Amelia,' Mrs. Crowley went on. 'She wears quantities of false
hair, and she'll adore you. She's so meek and so quiet, and she thinks
you such a marvel. But don't ask me to be nice to Amelia.'

'My dear lady, Amelia wouldn't approve of you. She'd think you much too
outspoken, and she wouldn't like your American accent. You must never
forget that Amelia is the granddaughter of a baronet.'

'I shall hold her up to Fleming as an awful warning of the woman whom I
won't let him marry at any price. "If you marry a woman like that,
Fleming," I shall say to him, "I shan't leave you a penny. It shall all
go the University of Pennsylvania."'

'If ever it is my good fortune to meet Fleming, I shall have great
pleasure in kicking him hard,' said Dick. 'I think he's a most
objectionable little beast.'

'How can you be so absurd? Why, my dear Mr. Lomas, Fleming could take
you up in one hand and throw you over a ten-foot wall.'

'Fleming must be a sportsman,' said Bobbie, who did not in the least
know whom they were talking about.

'He is,' answered Mrs. Crowley. 'He's been used to the saddle since he
was three years old, and I've never seen the fence that would make him
lift a hair. And he's the best swimmer at Harvard, and he's a wonderful
shot--I wish you could see him shoot, Mr. MacKenzie--and he's a dear.'

'Fleming's a prig,' said Dick.

'I'm afraid you're too old for Fleming,' said Mrs. Crowley, looking at
Lucy. 'If it weren't for that, I'd make him marry you.'

'Is Fleming your brother, Mrs. Crowley?' asked Lady Kelsey.

'No, Fleming's my son.'

'But you haven't got a son,' retorted the elder lady, much mystified.

'No, I know I haven't; but Fleming would have been my son if I'd had
one.'

'You mustn't mind them, Aunt Alice,' smiled Lucy gaily. 'They argue by
the hour about Amelia and Fleming, and neither of them exists; but
sometimes they go into such details and grow so excited that I really
b