I look best in a riding-habit. Altogether
you can't call _that_ a perfect fright; but, nevertheless, I think if
I might I would change places with Cousin John. _He_ has no Aunt
Deborah to be continually preaching _propriety_ to _him_. He can go
out when he likes without being questioned, and come in without being
scolded. He can swagger about wherever he chooses without that most
odious of encumbrances called a chaperon; and though I shouldn't care
to smoke as many cigars as he does (much as I like the smell of them
in the open air), yet I confess it must be delightfully independent to
have a latchkey.

I often wonder whether other people think Cousin John good-looking. I
have known him so long that I believe I can hardly be a fair judge. He
is fresh-coloured, to be sure, and square and rather fat, and when he
smiles and shows all his white teeth, he has a very pleasant
appearance; but I think I admire a man who looks rather more of a
_roue_--not like Colonel Bingham exactly, whose face is all wrinkles
and whiskers, but a little care-worn and jaded, as if he was
accustomed to difficulties, and had other things to occupy his
thoughts besides his horses and his dinner. I don't like a man that
stares at you; and I don't like a man that can't look you in the face.
He provokes me if he is all smiles, and I've no patience with him if
he's cross. I'm not sure I know exactly what does please me best, but
I _do_ know that I like Cousin John's constant good-humour, and the
pains he takes to give me a day's amusement whenever he can, or what
he calls "have Cousin Kate out for a lark." And this brings me back to
Aunt Deborah and the expedition to Ascot, a thing of all others I
fancied was so perfectly delightful.

"My dear," said Aunt Deborah as she folded her lavender-gloved hands,
"if it wasn't for the weather and my rheumatism, I'd accompany you
myself; but I do consider that Ascot is hardly a place for _my_ niece
to be seen at without a chaperon, and with no other protector than
John Jones--John Jones," repeated the old lady reflectively--"an
excellent young man, doubtless (I heard him his Catechism when he was
_so_ high), but still hardly equal to so responsible a charge as that
of Miss Coventry."

I knew this was what John calls a "back-hander" at me, but I can be
_so_ good-tempered when I've anything to gain; therefore I only
said,--

"Well, aunt, of course you're the best judge, and I don't care the
least about going