matches, but you mustn't sing that ballad. It's Ruth's special
property. She sings it with such feeling!

"`And the lad that marries me,
Must carry me home to my North-coun-tree!'"

"Mollie!" Ruth's tone was eloquent of reproof, but Mollie only laughed,
and said easily--

"Oh well, of course, if you inherit the Court you will have to change
your plans. I wish I could lift it up bodily and put it down among the
dear Westmorland mountains; but I'm afraid that's impossible. I think
that is all the history we have. No two girls could possibly have led a
less eventful life. We have had no money to travel and see the world,
and we are not in the least bit accomplished, but we have had a happy
time all the same, and we mean to be happy, whatever happens; don't we,
Ruth?"

Ruth did not answer, but sat with downcast eyes, staring at the ground.
She more than half disapproved of Mollie's candour, despising herself
the while for so doing, so she preserved a dead silence, until Jack
Melland nobly stepped into the breach.

"Well, if you are North-country, Miss Mollie, I suppose I am Colonial.
I was born in India, where my father's regiment was stationed. He died
when I was a youngster, and my poor little mother had a hard struggle to
keep herself and me. If a fortune had come to us in those days it would
have been a godsend, and she would probably be with me now; but she died
eight years ago, and I am alone in the world, with no one to think of
but myself. I have dingy diggings and a garrulous landlady, but, like
you, I manage to have a very good time. I am interested in my work--I'm
interested in life generally. I mean to make something out of it before
I am done."

He threw back his head with a proud, self-confident gesture. Young,
strong, high-spirited, he felt at that moment that the world lay at his
feet. All things seemed possible to his unaided powers, and the thought
of help was repugnant rather than welcome. The two girls looked at him
with the involuntary admiration which women pay to a strong man, while
Victor Druce smiled his slow, inscrutable smile.

"A good thing for you that you are not in my profession, Melland! A
barrister can't push; he must sit still and wait his turn. I have been
waiting a long time, and I can't say that I seem much nearer the
Woolsack. Still, one can amuse oneself in London, and I have my home in
the country to which I can retire whenever I need a rest. My old
pa