know you always say women love
acquisition. I want good interest, and of course with Phil on it, it
must be safe for me."

"Oh, that makes it like the Bank of England, you think! but I don't
share your confidence, my pretty Elinor. I'm an old fellow. No Phil in
the world has any charm for me. You must trust me to do what I feel is
best for you. And Mr. Tatham here is quite of my opinion."

"Oh, John! he is sure to be against me," said Elinor, with an angry
glimmer in her eyes. She had not as yet taken any notice of him while
she welcomed with such warmth his old companion. And John had stood by
offering no greeting, with his bag in his hand. But when she said this
the quick feeling girl was seized with compunction. She turned from Mr.
Lynch and held out both her hands to her cousin. "John, I didn't mean
that; it is only that I am excited and cross. And don't, oh, don't go
against me," she cried.

"I never did, and never will, Elinor," he said gravely. Then he asked,
after a moment, "Is Mr. Compton here?"

"No; how could he be here? Three gentlemen in the cottage is enough to
overwhelm us already. Mr. Sharp, fortunately, can't stay," she added,
lowering her voice; "he has to be driven back to the station to catch
the last express. And it is August," she said with a laugh; "you forget
the 15th. Now, could Phil be anywhere but where there is grouse? You
shall have some to dinner to-night that fell by his gun. That should
mollify you, for I am sure you never got grouse at the cottage before
in August. Mamma would as soon think of buying manna for you to eat."

"I think it would have been more respectful, Elinor, if he had been
here. What is grouse to you?"

"Then I don't think anything of the kind," cried Elinor. "He is much
better away. And I assure you, John, I never mean to put myself in
competition with the grouse."

The old lawyer had gone into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Dennistoun was
holding parley with Mr. Sharp. Elinor and John were standing alone in
the half light of the summer evening, the sun down, the depths of the
combe below falling into faint mist, but the sunset-tinted clouds still
floating like a vapour made of roses upon the clearness of the blue
above. "Come and take a turn through the copse," said John. "They don't
want either of us indoors."

She went with a momentary reluctance and a glance back at the bow-window
of the drawing-room, from which the sound of voices issued. "Don't you
think