rtunes, of acting for herself; but her feelings
were too much for Miss Dora. The tears came creeping to the corners of
her eyes, and she could not keep them back; and her attempt at dignity
broke down. "I am never consulted," she said, with a gasp. "I don't mean
to pretend to know better than Leonora; but--but I think it is very
hard that Frank should be disappointed about Skelmersdale. You may call
me as foolish as you please," said Miss Dora, with rising tears, "I know
everybody will say it is my fault; but I must say I think it is very
hard that Frank should be disappointed. He was always brought up for it,
as everybody knows; and to disappoint him, who is so good and so nice,
for a fat young man, buttered all over like--like--a pudding-basin,"
cried poor Miss Dora, severely adhering to the unity of her desperate
metaphor. "I don't know what Julia Trench can be thinking of; I--I don't
know what Leonora means."

"I am of the same way of thinking," said aunt Cecilia, setting down,
with a little gentle emphasis, her cup of tea.

Here was rebellion, open and uncompromised. Miss Leonora was so much
taken by surprise, that she lifted the tea-urn out of the way, and
stared at her interlocutors with genuine amazement. But she proved
herself, as usual, equal to the occasion.

"It's unfortunate that we never see eye to eye just at once," she
said, with a look which expressed more distinctly than words could
have done the preliminary flourish of his whip by means of which a
skilful charioteer gets his team under hand without touching them;
"but it is very lucky that we always come to agree in the end," she
added, more significantly still. It was well to crush insubordination
in the bud. Not that she did not share the sentiment of her sisters;
but then they were guided like ordinary women by their feelings;
whereas Miss Leonora had the rights of property before her, and the
approval of Exeter Hall.

"And he wants to marry, poor dear boy," said Miss Dora, pale with
fright, yet persevering; "and she is a dear good girl--the very person
for a clergyman's wife; and what is he to do if he is always to be
Curate of St Roque's? You may say it is my fault, but I cannot help it.
He always used to come to me in all his little troubles; and when he
wants anything very particular, he knows there is nothing I would not do
for him," sobbed the proud aunt, who could not help recollecting how
much use she had been to Frank. She wiped her ey