"What say you to carrying her off, Captain?" suggested Blueskin. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. The blaze, however, was sufficient to reveal to the thief-taker the features of his intended assassin. She thought Alice a bit of a sneak, an opinion her brothers shared, and Gwen rather a snatch at meals. The general did what he might to hush it up, and paid handsomely to manage it, I daresay.
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