charming
manners. He never allowed the passing of bread-and-butter to interfere
with the flow of conversation; yet the bread-and-butter was always
within reach at the precise moment you wanted it, though the Boy's
bright eyes were fixed just then in keenest interest on the person who
happened to be speaking, and not a point of the story, or a word of the
remark, was missed either by him or by you.

He used to watch the Aunt's beautiful hands very closely; and at last,
every time he looked at them, his brown eyes kissed them. The Boy
thought this was a delightful secret known only to himself. But one
day, when he was bending over her, holding his own cup while she filled
it, the Aunt suddenly said: "Don't!" It was so startling and
unexpected, that the cup almost flew out of his hand. The Boy might
have said: "Don't _what_?" which would have put the Aunt in a
difficulty, because it would have been so very impossible to explain.
But he was too honest. He at once _didn't_, and felt a little shy for
five minutes; then recovered, and hugged himself with a fearful joy at
the thought that she had _known_ his eyes had kissed her dear beautiful
hands; then stole a look at her calm face, so completely unmoved in its
classic beauty, and thought he must have been mistaken; only--what on
earth else could she have said "Don't!" about, at that moment?

But Mollie was there, then; so no explanations were possible. Now at
last, thank goodness, Mollie had gone, and his own seven days had
begun. This was the first day; and he was going to tell her
everything. There was absolutely nothing he would not be able to tell
her. The delight of this fairly swept the Boy off his feet. He had
kept on the curb so long; and he was not used to curbs of any kind.

He lay back, his hands behind his head, and watched the Aunt's kind
face, through half-closed lids. His brown eyes were shining, but very
soft. When the Aunt looked at them, she quickly looked away.

"How could you think the attraction would be gone?" he said. "It was
always you, I wanted, not your niece. Good heavens! How can you have
thought it was Mollie, when it was _you_--YOU, just only you, all the
time?"

The Aunt raised her beautiful eyebrows and looked him straight in the
face.

"Is this a proposal?" she asked, quietly.

"Of course it is," said the Boy; "and jolly hard it has been, having to
wait two whole weeks to make it. I want you to marry me, Christobel.