"Oh, Dick! but to have offended him like this!" 

 "A highly estimable young gentleman," I said, "though deplorably lacking in that saving sense of humour which—" 

 "Aunt Agatha seems to think a great deal of him." 

 "So I understand," I nodded. 

 "Only this morning I received a letter from her, in which, among other things, she pointed out what a very excellent match he would be." 

 "And what do you think?" 

 "Oh, I agree with her, of course; his family dates back ages and ages before the Conqueror, and he has two or three estates besides Selwyn Park, and one in Scotland." 

 "Do you know, Lisbeth, that reminds me of another house—not at all big or splendid, but of great age; a house which stands not far from the village of Down, in Kent; a house which is going to rack and ruin for want of a mistress. Sometimes, just as evening comes on, I think it must dream of the light feet and gentle hands it has known so many years ago, and feels its loneliness more than ever." 

 "Poor old house!" said Lisbeth softly. 

 "Yes, a house is very human, Lisbeth, especially an old one, and feels the need of that loving care which only a woman can bestow, just as we do ourselves." 

 "Dear old house!" said Lisbeth, more softly than before. 

 "How much longer must it wait—when will you come and care for it, Lisbeth?" 

 She started, and I thought her cheeks seemed a trifle pinker than usual as her eyes met mine. 

 "Dick," she said wistfully, "I do wish you would get the ladder; it's horribly uncomfortable to sit in a tree for hours and—" 

 "First of all, Lisbeth, you will forgive the Imp—full and freely, won't you?" 

 "He shall go to bed without any tea whatever." 

 "That will be rank cruelty, Lisbeth; remember he is a growing boy." 

 "And I have been perched up here—between heaven and earth—all the afternoon." 

 Prev. P 26/113 next