ficulty I had to make Charlotte see
the impossibility--nay, the dishonesty of an arrangement which appeared
so simple to her. She thought for a while that I was just doing it out
of jealousy, and she sulked.

I reasoned with her, but I might as well have tried logic on the
Gallaberry black-faced ewes. She continued to revolve the project in her
own mind.

"Whatever you--I mean _we_--can get out of father is to the good," she
said. "He will never miss it. If you don't, I will ask him for the money
for your fees myself and give it to Tom----"

"If you do!" I cried in horror,--"oh--you don't know what you are
talking about, girl!"

"You don't love me a bit," she said. "What would it matter to you?
Besides, if it comes to giving a receipt, I can imitate your signature
to a nicety. Agnes Anne says so."

"But, Charlotte, it would be forgery," I gasped. "They hang people for
forgery."

"No, they don't--at least, not for that sort," she argued, her eyes very
bright with the working of her inward idea. "For how can it be forgery
when it is _your_ name I write, and I've told you of it beforehand? It's
my father's money, isn't it, and he gives it to you for marrying me?
Very well, then, it's yours--no, I mean it's Tom's because he means to
marry me. At least I mean to marry him. Anyway, the money is not my
father's, because he gives it freely to you (or Tom) for a certain
purpose. Well, Tom is going to be the one who will carry out that
purpose. So the money is his. Therefore it's honest and no forgery!"

These arguments were so strong and convincing to Charlotte that I did
not attempt to discuss them further, salving my conscience by the
thought that there remained his Majesty's post, and that a letter
addressed to her father at the Farmers' Ordinary Room, in care of the
King's Arms, would clear me of all financial responsibility. But this I
took care not to mention to Lottie, because it might have savoured of
treachery and disturbed her.

On the other hand, I began urging her to find another confidant than
Agnes Anne. She would do well enough for ordinary letters which I was to
send on to Cousin Tom. But she must not know they were not for me. She
must think that all was going on well between us. This, I showed her,
was a necessity. Charlotte felt the need also, and suggested this girl
and that at Miss Seraphina Huntingdon's. But I objected to all. I had to
think quick, for some were very nice girls, and at most times