‘It’s work enough to read them, sometimes,’ I returned. ‘As to the writing, it has its own charms, aunt.’

‘Ah!

I see!’ said my aunt. ‘Ambition, love of approbation, sympathy, and much more, I suppose? Well: go along with you!’

‘Do you know anything more,’ said I, standing composedly before her — she had patted me on the shoulder, and sat down in my chair — ‘of that attachment of Agnes?’

She looked up in my face a little while, before replying:

‘I think I do, Trot.’

‘Are you confirmed in your impression?’ I inquired.