tone, as though her shrewdness had hit very
near the truth; "they have too much sense to think a fellow is in love
with them because he has a little fun with them; you married women are
so censorious," he finished, walking off in a huff; but the next
moment he came back with a droll look on his face.

"Mrs. Spooner wants me to dine there to-morrow; there is to be a
little dance; some of the Gowers are coming. Do you think you can
spare me, Fay?"

"Oh, go away; you are all alike!" returned Fay, impatiently; "you have
only to blame yourself if Mr. Spooner asks your intentions. I do not
think Mr. Huntingdon would approve of Dora one bit; she is not so very
handsome, she will not hold a candle to you know whom, and she has no
money--a vicar with a large family can not afford a dowry to his
daughter." But, as Erle had very rudely marched out of the room, she
finished this little bit of worldly wisdom to empty walls.

Erle had been over to the Grange. He had mooted the question one
evening when he and Sir Hugh were keeping Fay company; and, to Fay's
great surprise, her husband had made no objection. "I suppose it would
be right for you to call and thank them, Erle," he had said, as though
he were prepared for the suggestion; "and perhaps, Fay"--hesitating
slightly--"it might be as well for you to write a little note and say
something civil after all their attention." And Fay thanked him for
the permission with a radiant face, as though he had done her a
personal favor, and the next day wrote the prettiest and most grateful
little note, which Erle promised to deliver.

"You will be sure to keep the girls until I get back," had been his
parting request when he came to fetch the dogs.

It was not exactly the sort of afternoon that Erle would have selected
for a country walk--a thaw had set in, and the lanes were perfect
quagmires of half-melted snow and slash, in which the dogs paddled and
splashed their way with a perfect indifference to the state of their
glossy coats; any amount of slush being better than enforced inaction.

"I shall have to leave you outside, my fine fellows," observed Erle,
as Nero took a header into a heap of dirty-looking snow, in which he
rolled delightedly. "I am afraid I shall hardly be presentable myself
out these are the joys of country life, I suppose."

But he was not at all sorry when he found himself at the Grange, and a
pleasant-looking, gray-haired woman had ushered him into a room wher