'
'The wretch!' exclaimed the spinster, with energetic indignation.
(Mr. Jingle's doubts were resolved. She HAD money.)
'More than that,' said Jingle--'loves another.'
'Another!' ejaculated the spinster. 'Who?'
'Short girl--black eyes--niece Emily.'
There was a pause.
Now, if there was one individual in the whole world, of whom
the spinster aunt entertained a mortal and deep-rooted jealousy,
it was this identical niece. The colour rushed over her face and
neck, and she tossed her head in silence with an air of ineffable
contempt. At last, biting her thin lips, and bridling up, she said--
'It can't be. I won't believe it.'
'Watch 'em,' said Jingle.
'I will,' said the aunt.
'Watch his looks.'
'I will.'
'His whispers.'
'I will.'
'He'll sit next her at table.'
'Let him.'
'He'll flatter her.'
'Let him.'
'He'll pay her every possible attention.'
'Let him.'
'And he'll cut you.'
'Cut ME!' screamed the spinster aunt. 'HE cut ME; will he!' and
she trembled with rage and disappointment.
'You will convince yourself?' said Jingle.
'I will.'
'You'll show your spirit?'
'I will.'
'You'll not have him afterwards?'
'Never.
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