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My Aunt Makes up Her Mind About Me

           

           ‘Imadeit.We’llgoandflyit,youandI,’saidMr.Dick.‘Doyouseethis?’

           Heshowedmethatitwascoveredwithmanuscript,verycloselyandlaboriouslywritten;butsoplainly,thatasIlookedalongthelines,IthoughtIsawsomeallusiontoKingCharlestheFirst’sheadagain,inoneortwoplaces.

           ‘There’splentyofstring,’saidMr.Dick,‘andwhenitflieshigh,ittakesthefactsalongway.That’smymannerofdiffusing‘em.Idon’tknowwheretheymaycomedown.It’saccordingtocircumstances,andthewind,andsoforth;butItakemychanceofthat.’

           Hisfacewassoverymildandpleasant,andhadsomethingsoreverendinit,thoughitwashaleandhearty,thatIwasnotsurebutthathewashavingagood-humouredjestwithme.SoIlaughed,andhelaughed,andwepartedthebestfriendspossible.

           ‘Well,child,’saidmyaunt,whenIwentdownstairs.‘AndwhatofMr.Dick,thismorning?’

           Iinformedherthathesenthiscompliments,andwasgettingonverywellindeed.

           ‘Whatdoyouthinkofhim?’saidmyaunt.

           Ihadsomeshadowyideaofendeavouringtoevadethequestion,byreplyingthatIthoughthimaverynicegentleman;butmyauntwasnottobesoputoff,forshelaidherworkdowninherlap,andsaid,foldingherhandsuponit:

           ‘Come!YoursisterBetseyTrotwoodwouldhavetoldmewhatshethoughtofanyone,directly.

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