English garden and English life, and--and English
ladies--here his eyes fell for a brief moment on Fluff--one most have
lived for ten years in the backwoods of Australia. How is your father,
Frances? I trust Miss Danvers had no real cause for alarm?"

"Oh, no; Ellen is a fanciful little creature. He did sleep rather
heavily. I think it was the heat; but he is all right now, and waiting
to welcome you in the supper-room. Won't you let me show you the way to
your room? You would like to wash your hands before eating."

Frances and Arnold walked slowly in the direction of the house. Fluff
had left them; she was engaged in an eager game of play with an
overgrown and unwieldly pup and a Persian kitten. Arnold had observed
with some surprise that she had forgotten even to inquire for Mr. Kane.

CHAPTER VI.

"I WILL NOT SELL THE FIRS."

On the morning after Arnold's arrival the squire called his daughter
into the south parlor.

"My love," he said, "I want a word with you."

As a rule Frances was very willing to have words with her father. She
was always patient and gentle and sweet with him; but she would have
been more than human if she had not cast some wistful glances into the
garden, where Philip was waiting for her. He and she also had something
to talk about that morning, and why did Fluff go out, and play those
bewitching airs softly to herself on the guitar? And why did she sing in
that wild-bird voice of hers? and why did Philip pause now and then in
his walk, as though he was listening--which indeed he was, for it would
be difficult for any one to shut their ears to such light and
harmonious sounds. Frances hated herself for feeling jealous. No--of
course she was not jealous; she could not stoop to anything so mean.
Poor darling little Fluff! and Philip, her true lover, who had remained
constant to her for ten long years.

With a smile on her lips, and the old look of patience in her steady
eyes, she turned her back to the window and prepared to listen to what
the squire had to say.

"The fact is, Frances--" he began. "Sit down, my dear, sit down; I hate
to have people standing, it fidgets me so. Oh! you want to be out with
that young man; well, Fluff will amuse him--dear little thing,
Fluff--most entertaining. Has a way of soothing a man's nerves, which
few women possess. You, my dear, have often a most irritating way with
you; not that I complain--we all have our faults. You inherit this
intense