ith his grace. Shall I
tell you more? He sat with me for over an hour last night, until mamma
sent me off to bed, and was very angry at you because I had engaged to
ride with you to-day."

"And I suppose you wish you had stayed with him," I flung back, hotly.
"He had spun you a score of fine speeches and a hundred empty compliments
by now."

"He had been better company than you, sir," she laughed provokingly.
"I never heard you turn a compliment in your life, and you are now
seventeen. What headway do you expect to make at the assemblies?"

"None," I answered, rather sadly than otherwise. For she had touched
me upon a sore spot. "But if I cannot win a woman save by compliments,"
I added, flaring up, "then may I pay a bachelor's tax!"

My lady drew her whip across my knee.

"You must tell us we are beautiful, Richard," said she, in another tone.

"You have but to look in a pier-glass," I retorted. "And, besides, that
is not sufficient. You will want some rhyming couplet out of a mythology
before you are content."

She laughed again.

"Sir," answered she, "but you have wit, if you can but be got angry."

She leaned over the dial's face, and began to draw the Latin numerals
with her finger. So arch, withal, that I forgot my ill-humour.

"If you would but agree to stay angry for a day," she went on, in a low
tone, "perhaps--"

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps you would be better company," said Dorothy. "You would surely
be more entertaining."

"Dorothy, I love you," I said.

"To be sure. I know that," she replied. "I think you have said that
before."

I admitted it sadly. "But I should be a better husband than Dr.
Courtenay."

"La!" cried she; "I am not thinking of husbands. I shall have a good
time, sir, I promise you, before I marry. And then I should never marry
you. You are much too rough, and too masterful. And you would require
obedience. I shall never obey any man. You would be too strict a
master, sir. I can see it with your dogs and your servants. And your
friends, too. For you thrash any boy who does not agree with you. I
want no rough squire for a husband. And then, you are a Whig. I could
never marry a Whig. You behaved disgracefully at King William's School
last year. Don't deny it!"

"Deny it!" I cried warmly; "I would as soon deny that you are an arrant
flirt, Dorothy Manners, and will be a worse one."

"Yes, I shall have my fling," said the minx. "I shall begin to-night,
with you for an audience