d himself proposed--although in a very mild
form--more than once to Victoria, this was generous.

"I daresay he could," she agreed absently.

"It isn't only the way he's built," persisted Hastings, "he looks as if
he were going to be somebody some day. Introduce me to him, will you?"

"Certainly," said Victoria. "Mr. Vane," she called, "I want to introduce
an admirer, Mr. Hastings Weare."

"I just wanted to know you," said Hastings, reddening, "and Victoria--I
mean Miss Flint--said she'd introduce me."

"I'm much obliged to her," said Austen, smiling.

"Are you in politics?" asked Hastings.

"I'm afraid not," answered Austen, with a glance at Victoria.

"You're not helping Humphrey Crewe, are you?"

"No," said Austen, and added with an illuminating smile, "Mr. Crewe
doesn't need any help."

"I'm glad you're not," exclaimed the downright Hastings, with palpable
relief in his voice that an idol had not been shattered. "I think
Humphrey's a fakir, and all this sort of thing tommyrot. He wouldn't get
my vote by giving me lemonade and cake and letting me look at his cows.
If you ever run for office, I'd like to cast it for you. My father is
only a summer resident, but since he has gone out of business he stays
here till Christmas, and I'll be twenty-one in a year."

Austen had ceased to smile; he was looking into the boy's eyes with that
serious expression which men and women found irresistible.

"Thank you, Mr. Weare," he said simply.

Hastings was suddenly overcome with the shyness of youth. He held out his
hand, and said, "I'm awfully glad to have met you," and fled.

Victoria, who had looked on with a curious mixture of feelings, turned to
Austen.

"That was a real tribute," she said. "Is this the way you affect
everybody whom you meet?"

They were standing almost alone. The sun was nearing the western hills
beyond the river, and people had for some time been wending their way
towards the field where the horses were tied. He did not answer her
question, but asked one instead.

"Will you let me drive you home?"

"Do you think you deserve to, after the shameful manner in which you have
behaved?"

"I'm quite sure that I don't deserve to," he answered, still looking down
at her.

"If you did deserve to, being a woman, I probably shouldn't let you,"
said Victoria, flashing a look upwards; "as it is, you may."

His face lighted, but she halted in the grass, with her hands behind her,
and stared at h