. . . But where's the use of
talking? We're Vyells. And--here's my point--Oliver is a Vyell.
He may be strong-willed, but--did mamma happen to talk at all about the
'Family'?"

"I think," answered Ruth with another faint flash of mirth, "it was I
who asked her questions about it."

Diana threw out her hands, laughing. "You are invincible! Well, I
cannot hate you; and I've given you my warning. Make him marry you; you
can if you choose, and now is your time. If there should be children--
legitimate children, O my poor mamma!--there will be the devil to pay
and helpless family councils, all of which I shall charge myself to
enjoy and to report to you. If there should be none, we're safe with
Mrs. Harry. She'll breed a dozen. . . . Am I coarse? Oh, yes, the
Vyells can be coarse! while as for the Petts--but you have heard dear
mamma."

They talked together for a few minutes after this. But their talk shall
not be reported: for with what do you suppose it dealt?

--With Dress. As I am a living man, with Dress.

In the midst of it, and while Ruth listened eagerly to what Diana had to
tell of London fashions, Lady Caroline's voice was heard summoning her
daughter away.

Diana rose. "It is close upon dusk," she said, "and Mrs. Harry has
command of the waggon. She drives very well--not better than I perhaps;
but she understands this country better. All the same, the road--call
it an apology for one--bristles with tree-stumps, and mamma's temper
will be unendurable if the dark overtakes us before we reach the next
farm. I forget its name."

"Natchett?"

"Yes, Natchett. We spend the night there."

"But why did not Mr. Silk drive you over?"

"Did mamma tell you he was escorting us?"

"No. I guessed."

"Nasty little fellow. Sloppy underlip. I cannot bear him. Can you?"

"I do not like him."

"It's a marvel to me that my cousin tolerates him. . . . By the way, I
shall not wonder if he--Oliver, I mean--loses his temper heavily when he
learns of our expedition, and bundles us straight back to Europe.
I warned mamma."

"So--I am afraid--did I."

"Yes?"--and again they laughed together.

"My poor parent! . . . She assured me that her duty to the Family was
her armour of proof. Hark! She's calling again."

They found Lady Caroline impatient in the verandah. Ruth, to avoid
speech with her, walked away to the waggon. Farmer Cordery stood at the
horse's head, and Mrs. Harry beside the step