chman would have called him "_fey_," and been certain
that misfortune was at his heels. And Charlotte looked at him in
wondering pity, for Harry's face was the face of a man determined to
carry out his own will regardless of consequences.

"Come, come, Harry," said the squire in a loud, cheerful voice, "you are
moping, and eating no breakfast. Charlotte will have to fill three times
before it is 'cup down' with me. I think we will take Dobbin, and go
over to Windermere in the tax-cart. The roads will be a bit sloppery,
but Dobbin isn't too old to splash through them at a rattling pace. He
is a famous good old-has-been is Dobbin. Give me a Suffolk Punch for a
roadster. I set much by them. Eh? What?"

"I must leave Sandal this morning, sir."

"Sir me no sir, Harry. 'Father' will stand between you and me, I think.
You must make a put-off for one day. I was at Bowness last week, and
they say such a winter for char-fishing was never seen. While I was on
the lakeside, Kit Noble's boat came in. He had all of twenty dozen in
the bottom of it. Mr. Wordsworth was there too, and he made a piece of
poetry about 'The silvery lights playing over them;' and he took me to
see a picture that a London gentleman painted of Kit and his boat. You
never saw fish out of the water look so fresh; their olive-green backs
and vermillion bellies and dark-red fins were as natural as life. Come
Harry, we will go and fetch over a few dozen. If you carry your colonel
some, he will take the gift as an excuse for the day. Eh? What?"

"I think Harry had better not go with you, father."

"Eh? What is the matter with you, Charlotte? You are as nattert and
cross as never was. Where is your mother? I like my morning cup filled
with a smile. It helps the day through."

"Mother isn't feeling well. She had a bad dream about Harry and you, and
she is making herself sick over it. She is all in a tremble. I didn't
think mother was so foolish."

"Dreams are from somewhere beyond us, Charlotte. There's them that visit
us a-dreaming. I am not so wise as to be foolish. I believe in some
things that are outside of my short wits. Maybe we had better not go to
Windermere. We might be tempted into a boat, and dry land is a middling
bit safer. Eh? What?"

Charlotte felt as if she could endure her father's unsuspicious
happiness no longer. It was like watching a little child smiling and
prattling on the road to its mother's funeral. She put Mrs. Sandal's
breakfast