about my son. Perhaps it may be more
convenient in the course of the day? My humble duty, sir, and my best
thanks. My son is strictly sober. He is accustomed to the stables, and
he belongs to the Church of England--without incumbrances." Having thus
planted his offspring provisionally in his master's estimation, Abraham
Sage shouldered his invaluable rake, and hobbled slowly out of view.

"If that's a specimen of a trustworthy old servant," said Allan, "I
think I'd rather take my chance of being cheated by a new one. _You_
shall not be troubled with him again, Miss Milroy, at any rate. All the
flower-beds in the garden are at your disposal, and all the fruit in the
fruit season, if you'll only come here and eat it."

"Oh, Mr. Armadale, how very, very kind you are. How can I thank you?"

Allan saw his way to another compliment--an elaborate compliment, in the
shape of a trap, this time.

"You can do me the greatest possible favor," he said. "You can assist me
in forming an agreeable impression of my own grounds."

"Dear me! how?" asked Miss Milroy, innocently.

Allan judiciously closed the trap on the spot in these words: "By taking
me with you, Miss Milroy, on your morning walk." He spoke, smiled, and
offered his arm.

She saw the way, on her side, to a little flirtation. She rested her
hand on his arm, blushed, hesitated, and suddenly took it away again.

"I don't think it's quite right, Mr. Armadale," she said, devoting
herself with the deepest attention to her collection of flowers.
"Oughtn't we to have some old lady here? Isn't it improper to take your
arm until I know you a little better than I do now? I am obliged to ask;
I have had so little instruction; I have seen so little of society, and
one of papa's friends once said my manners were too bold for my age.
What do _you_ think?"

"I think it's a very good thing your papa's friend is not here now,"
answered the outspoken Allan; "I should quarrel with him to a dead
certainty. As for society, Miss Milroy, nobody knows less about it than
I do; but if we _had_ an old lady here, I must say myself I think she
would be uncommonly in the way. Won't you?" concluded Allan, imploringly
offering his arm for the second time. "Do!"

Miss Milroy looked up at him sidelong from her flowers "You are as bad
as the gardener, Mr. Armadale!" She looked down again in a flutter
of indecision. "I'm sure it's wrong," she said, and took his arm the
instant afterward without the