you, my pet, to have lived so long here."

"I never found it in the least dull," she said.

"Why, there is nothing to do! I suppose you read books, eh? That's what
you call amusing yourself. You ought to have made the old lady take you
about a deal, abroad, and all over the place: but I expect you have
never stood up for yourself a bit, Nell."

"Don't call mamma the old lady, Phil. She is not old, and far prettier
than most people I know."

"Well, she should have done it for herself. Might have picked up a good
match, eh? a father-in-law that would have left you a pot of money. You
don't mean to say you wouldn't have liked that?"

"Oh, Phil, Phil! I wish you could understand."

"Well, well, I'll let the old girl alone." And then came the point at
which Phil improved so much. "Tell me what you've been reading last," he
said. "I should like to know what you are thinking about, even if I
don't understand it myself. I say, Nell, who do you think that can be
dashing so fast along the road?"

"It is the people at Reddown," she said. "I know their white horses.
They always dash along as if they were in the greatest hurry. Do you
really want to know what I have been reading, Phil? though it is very
little, I fear, because of the dressmakers and--all the other things."

"You see," he said, "when you have lots to do you can't keep up with
your books: which is the reason why I never pretend to read--I have no
time."

"You might find a little time. I have seen you look very much bored, and
complain that there was nothing to do."

"Never when you were there, Nell, that I'll answer for--but of course
there are times when a fellow isn't doing anything much. What would you
have me read? There's always the _Sporting and Dramatic_, you know, the
_Pink 'un_, and a few more."

"Oh, Phil! you don't call them literature, I hope."

"I don't know much about what you call literature. There's Ruff, and
Hoyle, and--I say, Nell, there's a dog-cart going a pace! Who can that
be, do you suppose?"

"I don't know all the dog-carts about. I should think it was some one
coming from the station."

"Oh!" he said, and made a long pause. "Driving like that, if they don't
break their necks, they should be here in ten minutes or so."

"Oh, not for twice that time--the road makes such a round--but there is
no reason to suppose that any dog-cart from the station should be coming
here."

"Well, to return to the literature, as you call it. I