had arranged a
double-bedded room for me and Milly, greatly to our content; and good Mary
Quince was placed in the dressing-room beside us.

We had only just commenced our toilet when our hostess entered, as usual in
high spirits, welcomed and kissed us both again and again. She was, indeed,
in extraordinary delight, for she had anticipated some stratagem or evasion
to prevent our visit; and in her usual way she spoke her mind as frankly
about Uncle Silas to poor Milly as she used to do of my dear father to me.

'I did not think he would let you come without a battle; and you know if
he chose to be obstinate it would not have been easy to get you out of the
enchanted ground, for so it seems to be with that awful old wizard in the
midst of it. I mean, Silas, your papa, my dear. Honestly, is not he very
like Michael Scott?'

'I never saw him,' answered poor Milly. 'At least, that I'm aware of,' she
added, perceiving us smile. 'But I do think he's a thought like old Michael
Dobbs, that sells the ferrets, maybe you mean him?'

'Why, you told me, Maud, that you and Milly were reading Walter Scott's
poems. Well, no matter. Michael Scott, my dear, was a dead wizard, with
ever so much silvery hair, lying in his grave for ever so many years, with
just life enough to scowl when they took his book; and you'll find him in
the "Lay of the Last Minstrel," exactly like your papa, my dear. And my
people tell me that your brother Dudley has been seen drinking and smoking
about Feltram this week. How long does he remain at home? Not very long,
eh? And, Maud, dear, he has not been making love to you? Well, I see; of
course he has. And _apropos_ of love-making, I hope that impudent creature,
Charles Oakley, has not been teasing you with notes or verses.'

'Indeed but he has though,' interposed Miss Milly; a good deal to my
chagrin, for I saw no particular reason for placing his verses in Cousin
Monica's hands. So I confessed the two little copies of verses, with the
qualification, however, that I did not know from whom they came.

'Well now, dear Maud, have not I told you fifty times over to have nothing
to say to him? I've found out, my dear, he plays, and he is very much in
debt. I've made a vow to pay no more for him. I've been such a fool, you
have no notion; and I'm speaking, you know, against myself; it would be
such a relief if he were to find a wife to support him; and he has been,
I'm told, very sweet upon a rich old maid--a b