after her and making her the talk of
the entire county, for that's what you're doing."

"What good old Pen has been telling you I'm doing, I suppose."

"I had my own doubts about it without any help from Pen ... but she said
Alec Pottinger had been talking...."

"Pottinger's an ass."

"He doesn't talk _much_, anyhow, Miles, and she felt if _he_ said
anything...."

"Look here, Aunt Mary, how's a chap to go courting seriously if he
doesn't run after a girl?... he can't work it from a distance ... not
unless he's one of those poet chaps, and puts letters in hollow trees
and so on. And you don't seem to have provided any hollow trees about
here."

"Courting ... seriously!" Lady Mary repeated with real horror in her
tones. "Oh, Miles, you can't mean that!"

"Surely you'd not prefer I meant the other thing?"

"But, Miles dear, think!"

"I have thought, and I've thought it out."

"You mean you want to _marry_ her?"

Lady Mary spoke in an awed whisper.

"Just exactly that, and I don't care who knows it; but I'm not at all
sure she wants to marry me ... that's why I don't want to rush my fences
and get turned down. I'm a heavy chap to risk a fall, Aunt Mary."

"Oh, Miles! this is worse than anything Pen even dreamt of."

"What is? If you mean that she probably won't have me--I'm with you."

"Of course she'd jump at you--any girl would.... But a little
nursemaid!"

"Come now, Aunt Mary, you know very well she's just as good as I am;
better, probably, for she's got no pies nor starch in her pedigree. Her
father's a Major and her mother was of quite good family--and she's got
lots of rich, stingy relations ... and she doesn't sponge on 'em. What's
the matter with her?"

"Please don't do anything in a hurry, dear Miles."

"I shan't, if you and Pen and the blessed 'county,' with its criticism
and gossip, don't drive me into it ... but the very first word you
either say or repeat to me against Miss Morton, off I go to her and to
the old Major.... So now we understand each other, Aunt Mary--eh?"

"There are things you ought to know, Miles."

"You may depend," said Miles grimly, "that anything I ought to know I
shall be told ... over and over again ... confound it.... And remember,
Aunt Mary, that what I've told you is not in the least private. Tell
Pen, tell Mrs. Fream, tell Withells, but just leave me to tell Miss
Ross, that's all I beg."

"Miles, I shall tell nobody, for I hope ... I hope----"

"'Hope tol