e temples and dying away as rapidly as it had arisen, was
quite a forgivable weakness in a young girl.

"I believe," said Mary cautiously, "that he is Mr Gallup, the new
Liberal candidate."

"Did he tell you so?"

"No, father. He told me his name, but it was Grantly who thought he
was that one."

"And may I ask what reason Mr Gallup had for imparting his name to
you--did no one introduce him?"

"No, father."

"Well, how did the man come to speak to you?" Mr Ffolliot demanded,
irritably. "You must see that the matter requires explanation."

"He was lost," Mary said mournfully, "and so I showed him the way."

"Lost," Mr Ffolliot repeated scornfully; "lost in Redmarley!"

"No, father, in the wood."

"And what was he doing in our woods, pray?"

"He had tried to come by a short-cut and got muddled and he fell down,
and I couldn't pass by without speaking, could I . . . he might have
broken his leg or something."

"What were you doing in the woods alone? I have told you repeatedly
that I will not have you scouring the country by yourself. You have
plenty of brothers, let one of them accompany you."

"I wasn't exactly alone," Mary pleaded; "Parker was with me."

"Mary," Mr Ffolliot said solemnly, "has it ever occurred to you that
you are very nearly eighteen years old?"

"Yes, father."

"Well, that being the case, don't you think that decorum in your
conduct, more dignity and formality in your manner are a concession you
owe to your family. You know as well as I do that a young girl in your
position does not converse haphazard with any stranger that she happens
to find prone in the woods. It's not done, Mary, and what is more, _I_
will not have it. This impertinent young counter-jumper probably was
only too ready to seize upon any excuse to address you. You should
have given him the information he asked and walked on."

"But we were going the same way," Mary objected; "it seemed so snobby
to walk on, besides . . ." again that glorious blush, "he didn't speak
to me first, I spoke to him."

Mr Ffolliot sighed. "Remember," he said solemnly, "that should you see
him again you do not know that young man. . . ."

Silence on the part of Mary. Deep thought on the brow of Mr Ffolliot.

"To-morrow," he said at last, "you may do up your hair."

"Oh, father, mayn't I do it up to-night before church. I should love
to, do let me."

"No, my child, to-morrow is more suitable."

Mary did not ask why. N