t
of this big place to Margie. It's time you asserted yourself a little."

Mr Ffolliot stared gloomily at Mrs Grantly, who smiled at him in the
friendliest fashion. "You see," she went on, "you are, if I may say
so, a little unobservant, or you would perhaps have personally
investigated what made Ger, an otherwise quite normally intelligent
child, so very stupid over his poor little lessons."

"I've always left everything of that sort to his mother."

"I know you have--but do you think it was quite fair? And for a long
time Margie has been looking thin and fagged. Her father was most
concerned about it at Christmas--but I never heard you remark upon it."

"She never complains," Mr Ffolliot said feebly.

"Complains," Mrs Grantly repeated scornfully. "We're not a complaining
family. But I should have thought _you_ with your strong love of the
beautiful would at least have remarked how she has gone off in looks."

"She hasn't," said Mr Ffolliot with some heat.

"She looks her age, every day of it," Mrs Grantly persisted. "When we
bring her back she'll look like Mary's sister!"

"How long do you propose to be away?"

"Oh, three weeks or a month; at the most a fortnight less than you have
had every year for nineteen years."

Mr Ffolliot made no answer; he took out his cigarette case and lit a
cigarette with hands that were not quite steady.

"You quite understand then, Hilary, that you are to put the whole
weight of your authority into the scale that holds France for Margie?"

"I thought you said it was settled?"

"My dear man, you know what a goose she is; if she thought you hated
it, nothing would induce her to go--you _must_ consider her for once."

"I really must protest," Mr Ffolliot said stiffly, "against your
gratuitous assumption that _I_ care nothing for Margie's welfare."

"Not at all," Mrs Grantly said smoothly, "I only ask for a modest
manifestation of your devotion, that's all."

"Shall I go to her now?" said Mr Ffolliot with the air of a lamb led to
the slaughter.

"Certainly not--she'll probably be trying to get up lest you should
want her for anything. _I'll_ go and keep her in bed till luncheon.
You may come and see her at eleven."

When Fusby came in for the breakfast tray, Mr Ffolliot was still
standing on the hearth-rug immersed in thought.

CHAPTER XIX

MARY AND HER FATHER

In the lives of even the strongest and most competent among us, there
will arise moments whe