."

But the tone had grown suddenly dubious. Lady Tatham's eyebrows rose
slightly.

"Go to Threlfall, Harry?"

"Well, not to call on Melrose, mother! I should have to make sure he was
out of the way. But I feel as if I ought to do something about Faversham.
The fact is he did me a great kindness my first term at Oxford--he got me
into a little club I wanted to belong to."

"Oh, but _you_ could belong to any club you wished!" cried Mrs. Penfold.

Tatham laughed and coloured. Lady Tatham slipped the slightest look at
Lydia.

"Not at all. Faversham was awfully useful. I must see what can be done.
He can't stay on at that place."

"You never go to Threlfall?" Mrs. Penfold addressed her hostess.

"Never," said Lady Tatham quietly. "Mr. Melrose is impossible."

"I should jolly well think he is!" said Tatham; "the most grasping
and tyrannical old villain! He's got a business on now of the most
abominable kind. I have been hearing the whole story this week. A man
who dared to county court him for some perfectly just claim. And Melrose
in revenge has simply ruined him. Then there's a right of way dispute
going on--scandalous!--nothing to do with me!--but I'm helping other
people to fight him. And his _cottages_!--you never saw such pigsties!
He's defied every sort of inspector. I believe everybody's afraid of him.
And you can't get a yard of land out of him for any public purpose
whatever. Well, now that I'm on the County Council, I mean to _go for
him!"_

The young man sprang up, apparently to fetch cigarettes, really that
he might once more obtain a full view of Lydia, who had moved from the
tea-table to a more distant seat.

Mrs. Penfold waved the silver box aside. "I never learnt"--she said,
adding with soft, upturned eyes--confidingly--"sometimes I wish I did.
Oh, Lydia will!"

And Lydia, following Lady Tatham's lead, quietly lit up. Tatham who
cherished some rather strict and old-fashioned notions about women, very
imperfectly revealed even to his mother, was momentarily displeased; then
lost himself in the pleasure of watching a white hand and arm--for the
day was hot and sleeves short--in new positions.

Lady Tatham looked round in answer to her son's last words.

"I wish, Harry, you'd leave him alone."

"Who? Melrose? _Mother!_ Oh, I forgot--he's a sort of cousin, isn't he?"

"My second cousin."

"Worse luck! But that's nothing, unless one chooses it shall be. I
believe, mother, you know a heap of