e, and that nice funny man who was at the
school-feast is coming here to-morrow, and I shall show him my
guinea-pigs. He said he wanted to see them very much."

"Oh, he did, did he? When was that?"

"At the school-feast. Oh!" with enthusiasm, "he was so nice, Uncle
Charles, so attentive, and getting things when you want them; and the
wheel went over his foot when he was shaking hands, and he did not mind
a bit; and he filled our teapots for us--Ruth's big one, you know, that
holds such a lot."

"Oh! He filled the big teapot, did he?"

"Yes, and mine too; and then he helped us to unpack the dolls. He was so
kind to me and Cousin Ruth."

"Kind to Miss Deyncourt, was he?"

"Yes; and when we went away he ran and opened the gate for us. Oh, there
comes Cousin Ruth back again in the carriage. I'll run and tell her he's
coming. She _will_ be glad."

"Aunt Mary is right," said Charles, watching his niece disappear. "Molly
has formed a habit of expressing herself with unnecessary freedom.
Decidedly she is a little spoiled."

CHAPTER IX.

Dare arrived at Atherstone the following afternoon. Evelyn and Ralph,
who had enlarged on the state of morbid depression of the lonely
inhabitant of Vandon, were rather taken aback by the jaunty appearance
of the sufferer when he appeared, overflowing with evident satisfaction
and small-talk, his face wreathed with smiles.

"He bears up wonderfully," said Charles aside to Ruth, later in the
evening, as Dare warbled a very discreet selection of his best songs
after dinner. "No one knows better than myself that many a breaking
heart beats beneath a smiling waistcoat, but unless we had been told
beforehand we should never have guessed it in his case."

Dare, who was looking at Ruth, and saw Charles go and sit down by her,
brought his song to an abrupt conclusion, and made his way to her also.

"You also sing, Miss Deyncourt?" he asked. "I am sure, from your face,
you sing."

"I do."

"Thank Heaven!" said Charles, fervently. "I did you an injustice. I
thought you were going to say 'a little.' Every singing young lady I
ever met, when asked that question, invariably replied 'a little.'"

"I leave my friends to say that for me," said Ruth.

"Perhaps you yourself sing a _little_?" asked Dare, wishing Charles
would leave Ruth's ball of wool alone.

"No," said Charles; "I have no tricks." And he rose and went off to the
newspaper-table. Dare's songs were all very well, but r