her posture
at table, that she was offended with me. To tell the truth, I felt a
trifle guilty. My visits to her during the winter had been spasmodic and
hurried. What was worse, so greatly was I carried away by my social
success, that whenever we did meet I prattled on about fashionable
frivolities regardless of her frown. But though I was conscious of not
standing in her good graces, I felt tolerably secure from comments on
the score of Mr. Dale, for the reason that as she never went anywhere
she would know nothing of my intimacy with him unless Aunt Helen or my
father were to make her a confidant; and this I did not think likely.
Therefore, when she introduced the subject while we were alone together
in the drawing-room after dinner, I was a little disconcerted.

"Who is this Mr. Gale whose name I see connected with yours?" she asked
severely.

"With mine?"

"Yes, with yours. Don't beat about the bush! You know perfectly well
whom I mean."

"Excuse me, Aunt Agnes, there is no Mr. Gale among my acquaintance. I
know a Mr. Dale."

She frowned, and began to fumble in her pocket. "The principle is the
same whether it is Gale or Dale or Tompkins. I never expected to learn
of my niece's engagement from the public press. I am confident the
notice said 'Gale.' Ah! I thought so. Plain as the nose on your face,"
she added, producing from her porte-monnaie a newspaper cutting and
reading aloud: "'It is rumored that the engagement of the beautiful and
accomplished daughter of Augustus Harlan, the Railway Magnate, to Mr.
Roger Gale of this city will soon be announced.'"

"It is not true, Aunt Agnes," I cried indignantly. Needless to say I was
startled at this bit of information, coming too as it did from such an
unexpected source. My aunt's knowledge of it seemed fully as remarkable
to me as the fact of the publication.

"I trust not," she replied with emphasis. "I did not seriously suppose
my own niece so far lost to all sense of propriety as to take such a
step unbeknown to me. But it seems to me, Virginia, you must have been
behaving in a, to say the least, very peculiar manner, to get your name
into the newspapers. Where there is so much smoke there is apt to be a
little fire. Who is this Mr. Gale?"

"His name is Dale, Aunt Agnes."

"Well, Dale then. You won't put me off by quibbling. If you want your
father to know of it, you are taking just the course to make me tell
him."

"My father knows all there is to kno