Kendal's appreciation of it was so evident
that she failed to notice exactly what he answered. "You
have come back sooner than you intended?"

"By a month."

"Why!" she asked. Her eye made a soft bravado, but that
was lost. He did not guess for a moment that she believed
she knew why he had come.

"It was necessary," he answered, with remembered gravity,
"in connection with the death of--of a relative, a granduncle
of mine. The old fellow went off suddenly last week, and
they telegraphed for me. I believe he wanted to see me,
poor old chap, but of course it was too late."

"Oh!" said Elfrida gently, "that is very sad. Was it a
granduncle you were--fond of?"

Kendal could not restrain a smile at her earnestness.

"I was, in a way. He was a good old fellow, and he lived
to a great age--over ninety. He has left me all the duties
and responsibilities of his estate," Kendal went on, with
sudden gloom. "The Lord only knows what I'll do with
them."

"That makes it sadder," said the girl.

"I should think it did," Kendal replied; and then their
eyes met, and they laughed the healthy instinctive laugh
of youth when it is asked to mourn fatuously, which is
always a little cruel.

"I hope," said Elfrida quickly, "that he has not saddled
you with a title. An estate is bad enough, but with a
title added it would ruin you. You would never do any
more good work, I am sure--sure. People would get at
you--you would take to rearing farm creatures from a
sense of duty--you might go into Parliament. Tell me
there is no title!"

"How do you know all that?" Kendal exclaimed, laughing.
"But there is no title--never has been."

Elfrida drew a long sigh of relief, and held him with
her eyes as if he had just been snatched away from, some
impending danger. "So now you are--what do you say in
this country?--a landed proprietor. You belong to the
country gentry. In America I used to read about the
country gentry in _London Society_--all the contributors
and all the subscribers to _London Society_ used to be
country gentry, I believe, from what I remember. They
were always riding to hounds, and having big Christmas
parties, and telling ghost stories about the family,
diamonds."

"All very proper," Kendal protested against the irony of
her tone.

"Oh, if one would be quite _sure_ that it will not make
any difference," Elfrida went on, clasping her knee with
her shapely gloved hands. "I should like--I should like
to beg you