"Ah, well, I think you know Douglas Falloden"-- the tone was just lightly touched with significance--"and if you can lecture him--do!" Then she abruptly changed her subject: "I suppose you have scarcely yet made acquaintance with your two aunts who live quite close to the Fallodens in Yorkshire ?" Constance looked up in astonishment.
"Do you know them ?" "Oh, quite well!" The strong wrinkled face flashed into laughter.

But suddenly the speaker checked herself, and laid a worn hand gently on Constance's knee--"You won't mind if I tell you things ?--you won't think me an impertinent old woman?
I knew your father"-- was there just an imperceptible pause on the words?
--"when he was quite a boy; and my people were small squires under the shelter of the Risboroughs before your father sold the property and settled abroad.

I was brought up with all your people--your Aunt Marcia, and your Aunt Winifred, and all the rest of them.

I saw your mother once in Rome--and loved her, like everybody else.

But--as probably you know--your Aunt Winifred--who was keeping house for your father--gathered up her silly skirts, and departed when your father announced his engagement.