I have never seen a dimple like that of Elisabeth's.
Absorbed, we almost forgot Aunt Betty Jennings--stout, radiant, snub-nosed, arch-browed and curious, Elisabeth's chaperon.

On the whole, I was glad Aunt Betty Jennings was there.

When a soldier approaches a point of danger, he does not despise the cover of natural objects.

Aunt Betty appeared to me simply as a natural object at the time.

I sought her shelter.
"Aunt Betty," said I, as I took her hand; "Aunt Betty, have we told you, Elisabeth and I ?" I saw Elisabeth straighten in perplexity, doubt or horror, but I went on.
"Yes, Elisabeth and I--" "You _dear_ children!" gurgled Aunt Betty.
"Congratulate us both!" I demanded, and I put Elisabeth's hand, covered with my own, into the short and chubby fingers of that estimable lady.
Whenever Elisabeth attempted to open her lips I opened mine before, and I so overwhelmed dear Aunt Betty Jennings with protestations of my regard for her, my interest in her family, her other nieces, her chickens, her kittens, her home--I so quieted all her questions by assertions and demands and exclamations, and declarations that Mr.
Daniel Churchill had given his consent, that I swear for the moment even Elisabeth believed that what I had said was indeed true.