simply as a
sign of weak-mindedness--a stigma which she could not endure. So she
said nothing, and submitted to Oliver Trent's frequent visits with
resignation.

It must be said, however, that Aunt Sophy had not the least notion of
the frequency of Oliver's visits. She was a busy woman, and a somewhat
absent-minded one; and Mr. Trent often contrived to call when she was
out or engaged. And when she asked, as she sometimes did ask of
Sarah--"Any one called to-day?"--and received the grim answer "Only Mr.
Trent, as usual"--she simply laughed at Sarah's sour visage, and did not
calculate the number of these visits in the week. Mr. Brooke himself
grew uncomfortable about the matter, sooner than did Miss Brooke.

"Sophy," he said, one day, when he happened to find her alone in the
library, sitting at the very top of the library steps, with an immense
volume of German science on her knees. "Sophy, have you noticed that
young Trent has taken to coming here very often of late?"

"No," said Doctor Sophy, absently, "I haven't noticed." Then she went on
reading.

"My dear Sophy," said her brother, "will you do me the kindness to
listen to me for a moment?"

"Why, Caspar, I _am_ listening as hard as I can!" exclaimed Miss Brooke,
with an injured air. "What do you want?"

"I wish to speak about Lesley."

"Oh, I thought it was Mr. Trent."

"Does it not strike you that he comes here to see Lesley a great deal
too often?"

"Rubbish," cried Miss Brooke, pushing up her eyeglasses. "Why, he's
engaged to Ethel Kenyon."

"For all that," said Mr. Brooke, and then he paused for a moment. "Did
it never strike _you_ that he was here very often?"

"No," said Aunt Sophy, stolidly. "Haven't noticed. I suppose he comes to
help Lesley with her singing. Good gracious, Caspar, the girl can take
care of herself."

"I dare say she can, but I don't want any trifling--or--or
flirtation--to go on," said Brooke, rather sharply. "We are responsible
for her, you know: we have to hand her over in good condition, mind and
body, at the end of the twelve months. And if you can't look after her,
I must get her a companion or something. I've been inclined to come up
and play sheep-dog myself, sometimes, when I have heard them practising
for an hour together just above my head."

"If they disturb you, Caspar," began Miss Brooke, with real solicitude;
but her brother did not allow her to finish her sentence.

"No, no, they don't disturb me--in the