“It’s old age beginning to tell,” laughed Lord St. John, shaking hands.

“Old age?—­Fiddlesticks!” Eliza fumed contemptuously.  “I suppose the truth is you’re fashin’ yourself because Nan’s engaged to be married.  I’ve always said you were just like an old hen with one chick.”

“I’d like to see the child with a nest of her own, all the same, Eliza.”

“Hark to the man!  And when ’tis settled she shall have the nest, he looks for all the world as though she had just fallen out of it!”

St. John wheeled round suddenly.

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of—­that some day she may . . . fall out of this particular nest that’s building.”

“And why should she do that?” demanded Eliza truculently.  “Roger’s as bonnie and brave a mate as any woman need look for, and Trenby Hall’s a fine home to bring his bride to.”

“Yes.  But don’t you see,” explained Kitty, “it’s all happened so suddenly.  A little while ago we thought Nan cared for someone else and now we don’t want her to rush off and tie herself up with anyone in a hurry—­and be miserable ever after.”

“I’m no’ in favour of long engagements.”

“In this case a little delay might have been wiser before any engagement was entered upon,” said Lord St. John.

“I don’t hold with delays—­nor interfering between folks that have promised to be man and wife.  The Almighty never intended us to play at being providence.  If it’s ordained for Nan to marry Roger Trenby—­marry him she will.  And the lass is old enough to know her own mind; maybe you’re wrong in thinking her heart’s elsewhere.”

Then, catching an expression of dissent on Kitty’s face, she added shrewdly: 

“Oh, I ken weel he’s nae musician—­but it’s no’ a few notes of the piano will be binding husband and wife together.  ’Tis the wee bairns build the bridges we can cross in safety.”

There was an unwontedly tender gleam in her hard-featured face.  Kitty jumped up and kissed her impulsively.

“Aunt Eliza dear, you’ve a much softer heart than you pretend, and if Nan weren’t happily married you’d be just as sorry as the rest of us.”

“Perhaps Eliza’s right,” hazarded St. John rather uncertainly.  “We may have been too ready to assume Nan won’t be happy with the man she’s chosen.”

“I know Nan,” persisted Kitty obstinately.  “And I know she and Roger have really nothing in common.”

“Then perhaps they’ll find something after they’re married,” retorted Eliza, “and the looking for it will give a spice to life.  There’s many a man—­ay, and woman, too!—­who have fallen deeper in love after they’ve taken the plunge than ever they did while they were hovering on the brink.”

“That may be true in some cases,” responded St. John.  “But you’re advocating a big risk, Eliza.”

“And there’s mighty few things worth having in this world that aren’t obtained at a risk,” averred Mrs. McBain stoutly.  “You’ve always been for wrapping Nan up in cotton wool, St. John—­shielding her from this, protecting her from that!  Sic’ havers!  She’d be more of a woman if you’d let her stand on her own feet a bit.”