ities, but isn't a
Tripos what you work for at Cambridge? Suppose you came out Senior
Wrangler! We _should_ be proud of you!"

"No fear of that, I'm afraid, Carmel! I'm a long way behind and shall
have to swat like anything to get myself up to even ordinary standard.
Burn the midnight oil, and all that kind of weariness to the flesh!"

"But you'll do it!" (Carmel was looking at him critically.) "You've got
the right shape of head. Daddy and one of his friends, Signor Penati,
were fearfully keen on phrenology, and they used to make me notice the
shape of people's heads, and of the Greek and Roman busts in the
museums. It's wonderful how truly they tell character: the rules hardly
ever fail."

"What do you make of my particular phiz, then, you young Sicilian
witch?"

"Great ability if you only persevere; a noble mind and patriotism--your
forehead is just like the bust of the Emperor Augustus. You'd scorn
bribes, and speak out for the right. I prophesy that you'll some day get
into Parliament, and do splendid work for your country!"

"Whew! I'm afraid I'll never reach your expectations. It's a big order
you've laid down for me."

"You could do it, though, if you try. Oh, don't contradict me, for I
know! I haven't studied heads with Signor Penati for nothing. First
you're going to make a good master of the Chase, and then you'll help
England."

"Not of the Chase, Carmel," said Everard gently. "We've argued that
point out thoroughly, I think."

"No, no! Let me tell you once again that I don't want to be mistress
here. I only came over to England to please Mother and Daddy. I'm going
back to Sicily to live, as soon as I can choose for myself. Directly I'm
twenty-one I shall hand over the Chase to you. You're a far more
suitable owner for it than I am. I feel that strongly. It ought never to
have been left to me. But I'll put all that right again. Why can't you
take it?" she continued eagerly, as Everard shook his head. "Surely I
can give it to you if I like? Why not?"

"Why not? You're too young yet to understand. How could I be such an
utter slacker and sneak as to accept your inheritance? It's unthinkable.
Put that idea out of your little head, for it can never happen. As for
the rest of your prophecy, it's a long climb to get into Parliament. I'm
nothing like the man you think me, Carmel, though I'm going to make a
spurt now, at any rate. Don't expect to find me a Senior Wrangler by
Christmas though. Mr. Stacey