Confessions of a Well-Meaning Woman
with him again, you may tell him that he touches a hair of Will’s head at his peril. I have nothing more to say except that in your club you seem to be as violent and disorderly as out of it.”
There was a certain amount more noise . . . and bluster. But I think that in time even Spenworth must have seen that he was hardly the appropriate person to champion such a cause . . . whatever cause he imagined he was championing. . . Hardly had he left when my nephew was announced—and came in with a great show of embarrassment. I am very fond of Culroyd; so far as any one, without taking the responsibility of active interference, can help to bring two young people together. . . Both Culroyd and Hilda persist in regarding me as their good fairy. . .
“My dear boy,” I said, “what is the matter?”
“Oh, I’m—in the deuce of a hole, Aunt Ann,” he answered. “Where’s Will?”
“He has not come in yet,” I said. “Tell me what has happened.”
“Well,” said Culroyd, “I think you know a man called Deepe, Appleton Deepe.” My heart sank! “He called on me to-day—I don’t know if the fellow’s mad, but he said: ‘You’re a cousin of Mr. William Spenworth, aren’t
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