n.
He's only a doctor, so I hope they won't think him worth exchanging. My
Uncle captured him last year in the _Ferdinand_ privateer, off Belle
Isle, and he cured my Uncle of a r-r-raging toothache. Of course, after
_that_ we couldn't let him lie among the common French prisoners at Rye,
and so he stays with us. He's of very old family--a Breton, which is
nearly next door to being a true Briton, my father says--and he wears
his hair clubbed--not powdered. _Much_ more becoming, don't you think?'

'I don't know what you're----' Una began, but Puck, the other side of
the pail, winked, and she went on with her milking.

'He's going to be a great French physician when the war is over. He
makes me bobbins for my lace-pillow now--he's very clever with his
hands; but he'd doctor our people on the Green if they would let him.
Only our Doctor--Dr. Break--says he's an emp----or imp something--worse
than impostor. But my Nurse says----'

'Nurse! You're ever so old. What have you got a nurse for?' Una finished
milking, and turned round on her stool as _Kitty Shorthorn_ grazed off.

'Because I can't get rid of her. Old Cissie nursed my mother, and she
says she'll nurse me till she dies. The idea! She never lets me alone.
She thinks I'm delicate. She has grown infirm in her understanding, you
know. Mad--quite mad, poor Cissie!'

'Really mad?' said Una. 'Or just silly?'

'Crazy I should say--from the things she does. Her devotion to me is
terribly embarrassing. You know I have all the keys of the Hall except
the brewery and the tenants' kitchen. I give out all stores and the
linen and plate.'

'How jolly! I love store-rooms and giving out things.'

'Ah, it's a great responsibility you'll find when you come to my age.
Last year Dad said I was fatiguing myself with my duties, and he
actually wanted me to give up the keys to old Amoore, our housekeeper. I
wouldn't. I hate her. I said, "No, sir. I am Mistress of Marklake Hall
just as long as I live, because I'm never going to be married, and I
shall give out stores and linen till I die!"'

'And what did your father say?'

'Oh, I threatened to pin a dishclout to his coattail. He ran away. Every
one's afraid of Dad, except me.' Philadelphia stamped her foot. 'The
idea! If I can't make my own father happy in his own house, I'd like to
meet the woman that can, and--and--I'd have the living hide off her!'

She cut with her long-thonged whip. It cracked like a pistol-shot across
the