are
flying."

"But what would become of my father, and my mother, and my brother
Maunder?"

"Oh, they must stop here, of course. We shouldn't want them. But I would
give them all their house rent-free, and a fat pig every Christmas. Now
you sit there and spread your lap, that I may help you properly. I
want to see you eat; you must learn to eat like a lady of the highest
quality; for that you are going to be, I can tell you."

The beautiful maid of the gill smiled sweetly, sitting on the low bank
with the grace of simple nature and the playfulness of girlhood. She
looked up at Lancelot, the self-appointed man, with a bright glance
of curious contemplation; and contemplation (of any other subject than
self) is dangerously near contempt. She thought very little of his
large, free brag, of his patronizing manner, and fine self-content,
reference of everything to his own standard, beauty too feminine, and
instead of female gentleness, highly cultivated waywardness. But in
spite of all that, she could not help liking, and sometimes admiring
him, when he looked away. And now he was very busy with the high feast
he had brought.

"To begin with," he said, when his good things were displayed, "you must
remember that nothing is more vulgar than to be hungry. A gentleman may
have a tremendous appetite, but a lady never."

"But why? but why? That does seem foolish. I have read that the ladies
are always helped first. That must be because of their appetites."

"Insie, I tell you things, not the reasons of them. Things are learned
by seeing other people, and not by arguing about them."

"Then you had better eat your dinner first, and let me sit and watch
you. And then I can eat mine by imitation; that is to say, if there is
any left."

"You are one of the oddest people I have ever seen. You go round the
corner of all that I say, instead of following properly. When we are
married, you will always make me laugh. At one time they kept a boy to
make me laugh; but I got tired of him. Now I help you first, although
I am myself so hungry. I do it from a lofty feeling, which my aunt
Philippa calls 'chivalry.' Ladies talk about it when they want to get
the best of us. I have given you all the best part, you see; and I only
keep the worst of it for myself."

If Pet had any hope that his self-denial would promptly be denied to
him, he made a great mistake; for the damsel of the gill had a healthy
moorland appetite, and did justice t