She looked at me appealingly.

I did at last, what I ought to have done at first--I spoke out plainly.
"The fact is, aunt," I said, "poor Mr.Engelman has left us for awhile, sadly mortified and distressed.

He began by admiring Madame Fontaine; and he ended in making her an offer of marriage." "Mamma was indeed truly sorry for him," Minna added; "but she had no other alternative than to refuse him, of course." "Upon my word, child, I see no 'of course' in the matter!" my aunt answered sharply.
Minna was shocked.

"Oh, Mrs.Wagner! Mr.Engelman is more than twenty years older than mamma--and (I am sure I pity him, poor man)--and _so_ fat!" "Fat is a matter of taste," my aunt remarked, more and more resolute in taking Mr.Engelman's part.

"And as for his being twenty years older than your mother, I can tell you, young lady, that my dear lost husband was twenty years my senior when he married me--and a happier couple never lived.