there is anything miss Wych does hate, it is to have a
gentleman speak to her about her doings. When that happens she
thinks she's supposed to have done something dreadful; and it
hurts her more than you would guess, sir. Little child as she
was then, she would cry her eyes out over a word from Mr.
Kennedy, but her mother might say anything. And it has always
been just so with Mr. Falkirk. Only Miss Wych never cries for
_him_. At least nobody ever sees her.'

Now, instead of Mr. Rollo's being alarmed at this, as another
man might, it was answered by a certain humourous play of
face; a slight significance of lip and air, quite difficult to
characterize. It was not arrogant, nor arbitrary; I do not
know how to call it masterful; and yet certainly it expressed
no dismay and no apprehension. Perhaps it expressed that he
intended to be in a different category from other men. Perhaps
he thought Mrs. Bywank meant to read him a cautionary lesson.

'She is in rather a hard position,' he said, gravely. 'I am
glad she has got a good friend in you, Mrs. Bywank. And I am
glad _I_ have, too.'

'Yes, it is hard,' said the old housekeeper, with a glance at
him; 'though it is not to be expected, sir, that you should
quite understand it. But Miss Wych is the lovingest little
creature that ever lived, I believe, and as true as the sky.
Why, she could cheat Mr. Falkirk day in and day out if she
chose!--but if ever those young men _should_ get her to ride,
against his orders, she would go and tell him of it, the first
minute after she got home.'

Rollo did not ask whether they could do this, or had done it.
He went on quietly with his breakfast, only glancing up at
Mrs. Bywank to let her see that he was attending to her.

'So that's a great safeguard,' she began again, with a sigh.
'But I wish Mrs. Coles was back in Chicago! Miss Fisher was
bad enough. And what the two will do between them--'

'What does Miss Fisher do?'

'It is plain to me,' said Mrs. Bywank, 'that she wants to pull
my young lady down to her way of dress and behaviour; though
Miss Wych don't guess it a bit. _That_ she can never do, of
course. But it is just like Miss Fisher to push where she
can't pull. Do you understand me, sir?'

'Quite.'

'So that makes me anxious, sir. And there are hands enough to
help.'

Leaning somewhat towards her young guest, breakfast rather
forgotten on both sides, so they sat; when the door opened
softly and Wych Hazel came in