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“Is there any powder on my nose?” said Miss Allonby.

“I fail to perceive any,” said Mr. Erwyn.

“Come closer,” said she.

“I dare not,” said he.

Miss Allonby wheeled about. “Fie!” she cried; “one who has served against the French, [Footnote: This was not absolutely so. Mr. Erwyn had, however, in an outburst of patriotism, embarked, as a sort of cabin passenger, with his friend Sir John Morris, and possessed in consequence some claim to share such honor as was won by the glorious fiasco of Dungeness.] and afraid of powder!”

“It is not the powder that I fear.”

“What, then?” said she, in sinking to the divan beside the disordered tea-table.

“There are two of them,” said Mr. Erwyn, “and they are so red–“

“Nonsense!” cried Miss Allonby, with heightened color.

“‘Tis best to avoid temptation,” said Mr. Erwyn, virtuously.

“Undoubtedly,” she assented, “it is best to avoid having your ears boxed.”

Mr. Erwyn sighed as if in the relinquishment of an empire. Miss Allonby moved to the farther end of the divan.

“What was it,” she demanded, “that you had to tell me?”

“‘Tis a matter of some importance–” said Mr. Erwyn.

“Heavens!” said Miss Allonby, and absent-mindedly drew aside her skirts; “one would think you about to make a declaration.”

Mr. Erwyn sat down beside her, “I have been known,” said he, “to do such things.”

The divan was strewn with cushions in the Oriental fashion. Miss Allonby, with some adroitness, slipped one of them between her person and the locality of her neighbor. “Oh!” said Miss Allonby.

“Yes,” said he, smiling over the dragon-embroidered barrier; “I admit that I am even now shuddering upon the verge of matrimony.”

“Indeed!” she marvelled, secure in her fortress. “Have you selected an accomplice?”

“Split me, yes!” said Mr. Erwyn.

“And have I the honor of her acquaintance?” said Miss Allonby.

“Provoking!” said Mr. Erwyn; “no woman knows her better.”

Miss Allonby smiled. “Dear Mr. Erwyn,” she stated, “this is a disclosure I have looked for these six months.”

“Split me!” said Mr. Erwyn.

“Heavens, yes!” said she. “You have been a rather dilatory lover–“

“I am inexpressibly grieved, that I should have kept you waiting–“

“–and in fact, I had frequently thought of reproaching you for your tardiness–“

“Nay, in that case,” said Mr. Erwyn, “the matter could, no doubt, have been more expeditiously arranged.”

“–since your intentions have been quite apparent.”

Mr. Erwyn removed the cushion. “You do not, then, disapprove,” said he, “of my intentions?”

“Indeed, no,” said Miss Allonby; “I think you will make an excellent step-father.”

The cushion fell to the floor. Mr. Erwyn replaced it and smiled.

“And so,” Miss Allonby continued, “Mother, believing me in ignorance, has deputed you to inform me of this most transparent secret? How strange is the blindness of lovers! But I suppose,” sighed Miss Allonby, “we are all much alike.”

“We?” said Mr. Erwyn, softly.

“I meant–” said Miss Allonby, flushing somewhat.

“Yes?” said Mr. Erwyn. His voice sank to a pleading cadence. “Dear child, am I not worthy of trust?”

There was a microscopic pause.

“I am going to the Pantiles this afternoon,” declared Miss Allonby, at length, “to feed the swans.”

“Ah,” said Mr. Erwyn, and with comprehension; “surely, he, too, is rather tardy.”

“Oh,” said she, “then you know?”

“I know,” he announced, “that there is a tasteful and secluded summer-house near the Fountain of Neptune.”

“I was never allowed,” said Miss Allonby, unconvincingly, “to go into secluded summer-houses with any one; and, besides, the gardeners keep their beer jugs there–under the biggest bench.”

Mr. Erwyn beamed upon her paternally. “I was not, till this, aware,” said he, “that Captain Audaine was so much interested in ornithology. Yet what if, even when he is seated upon that biggest bench, your Captain does not utterly lose the head he is contributing to the tête-à-tête?“

“Oh, but he will,” said Miss Allonby, with confidence; then she reflectively added: “I shall have again to be painfully surprised by his declaration, for, after all, it will only be his seventh.”

“Doubtless,” Mr. Erwyn considered, “your astonishment will be extreme when you rebuke him, there above hortensial beer jugs–“