legs? or has he
had his nose shot off in any campaign? If so, break it to me gently,
and spare me the shock I might experience, if ever I make my curtsey to
him."

"It isn't that," says Tedcastle: "there's nothing wrong with him beyond
old age, and a beastly temper; but it seems so odd that, living all
your life in the very next county to his, you should never have met."

"It is not so odd, after all, when you come to think of it," says
Molly, "considering he never goes anywhere, as I have heard, and that I
lead quite as lively an existence. But is he not a stern old thing, to
keep up a quarrel for so many years, especially as it wasn't my fault,
you know? I didn't insist on being born. Poor mother! I think she was
quite right to run away with papa, when she loved him."

"Quite right," enthusiastically.

"What made her crime so unpardonable was the fact that she was engaged
to another man at the time, some rich _parti_ chosen by her
father, whom she thought she liked well enough until she saw papa, and
then she knew, and threw away everything for her love; and she did
well," says Molly, with more excitement than would be expected from her
on a sentimental subject.

"Still, it was rather hard on the first man, don't you think?" says
Luttrell. There is rather less enthusiasm in his tone this time.

"One should go to the wall, you know," argues Molly, calmly, "and I for
my part would not hesitate about it. Now, let us suppose I am engaged
to you without caring very much about you, you know, and all that, and
supposing then I saw another I liked better,--why, then, I honestly
confess I would not hold to my engagement with you for an hour!"

Here that wicked sunbeam, with a depravity unlooked for, falling
straight through the chink of the umbrella into Mr. Luttrell's eye,
maddens him to such a degree that he rises precipitately, shuts the
cause of his misfortunes with a bang, and turns on Molly.

"I won't hold it up another instant," he says; "you needn't think it. I
wonder Massereene wouldn't keep a decent umbrella in his hall."

"What's the matter with it? I see nothing indecent about it: I think it
a very charming umbrella," says Molly, examining the article in
question with a critical eye.

"Well, at all events, this orchard is oppressive. If you don't want to
kill me, you will leave it, and come to the wood, where we may know
what shade means!"

"Nonsense!" returns Molly, unmoved. "It is delicious here, and