would hardly have dismissed the
question in so summary a fashion, for the habit of regarding Millie as
a possibility and her readiness as a fact had grown strong by the
custom of years, and, far as he was from a passion, he might not have
enjoyed seeing her allegiance transferred to Victor Sutton. Certainly
he would have suffered defeat from that hand with very bad grace. Now,
however, everything was changed.

"Vansittart," said Lady Merceron, "Charlie and I want to consult you
(she often coupled Charlie's hypothetical desire for advice with her
own actual one in appeals to Mr. Vansittart) about Mr. Prime's rent."

"Oh, at the old farm?"

"Yes. He wants another reduction."

"He'll want to be paid for staying there next."

"Well, poor man, he's had to take lodgers this summer--a thing he's
never done before. Charlie, did you know that?"

"Yes," said Charlie, interrupting an animated conversation which he had
started with Mrs. Marland.

"Do you know who they are?" pursued his mother, wandering from Mr.
Prime's rent to the more interesting subject of his lodgers.

"Ladies from London," answered Charlie.

"Rather vague," commented Mr. Vansittart. "Young ladies or old ladies,
Charlie?"

"Why does he want to know?" asked Mrs. Marland; but chaff had about as
much effect on Mr. Vansittart as it would have on an ironclad. He
seemed not to hear, and awaited an answer with a bland smile. In truth,
he thought Mrs. Marland a silly woman.

"Young, I believe," answered Charlie, in a careless tone.

"It's curious I've not seen them about," said Lady Merceron. "I pass
the farm almost every day. Who are they, Charlie?"

"One's a Miss Wallace. She's engaged to Willie Prime."

"To Willie? Fancy!"

"H'm! I think," remarked Mr. Vansittart, "that, from the point of view
of a reduction of rent, these lodgers are a delusion. Of course she
stays with Prime if she's going to many his son."

"Fancy Willie!" reiterated Lady Merceron. "Surely he can't afford to
marry? He's in a bank, you know, Vansittart, and he only gets a hundred
and twenty pounds a year."

"One blessing of the country is that everybody knows his neighbor's
income," observed Mr. Vansittart.

"Perhaps the lady has money," suggested Mrs. Marland. "But, Mr.
Merceron, who's the other lady?"

"A friend of Miss Wallace's, I believe. I don't know her name."

"Oh, they're merely friends of Prime's?" Mr. Vansittart concluded. "If
that's all he bases his claim for