"I am--on this point."

"Well, since you must be told what most men could see without help, it is--because he is an orphan; and because an orphan finds a brother in every man that is worth the shoe-leather he stands in. Can ye read the riddle now, ye lubber?" and David started up haughtily, and, with contempt and wrath on his face, marched through the open window and joined his little friend on the lawn, leaving Fountain red with anger and Talboys white.

The next thing was, Lucy rose and went quietly out of the room by the door.

"It is the last time he shall set his foot within my door. Provoking cub!"

"You are convinced at last that he is a dangerous rival?"

"A rival? Nonsense and stuff!!"

"Then why was she so agitated? She went out with tears in her eyes: I saw them."

"The poor girl was frightened, no doubt. We don't have fracases at Font Abbey. On this one spot of earth comfort reigns, and balmy peace, and shall reign unruffled while I live. The pa.s.sions are not admitted here, sir. Gracious Heaven forbid! I'd as soon see a bonfire in the middle of my dining-room as Jealousy & Co."

"In that case you had better exclude the cause."

"The cause is your imagination, my good friend; but I will give it no handle. I will exclude David Dodd until she has accepted you in form."

With this understanding the friends parted.

After dinner that same day Arthur sat in the drawing-room with Lucy.

He was reading, she working placidly. She looked off her work demurely at him several times. He was absorbed in a flighty romance. "I have dropped my worsted, Arthur. It is by you."

Arthur picked the ball up and brought it to her; then back to his romance, heart and soul. Another sidelong glance at him; then, after a long silence, "Your book seems very interesting."

"I'll fling it against the wall if it does not mind," was the infuriated reply. "Here are two fools quarreling, page after page, and can't see, or won't see, what everybody else can see, that it is an absurd misunderstanding. One word of common sense would put it all right."

"Then why not put the book down and talk to me?"

"I can't. It won't let me. I must see how long the two fools will go on not seeing what everybody else sees."

"Will not the number of volumes tell you that?"

"Signorina, don't you try to be satirical!" said the sprightly youth; "you'll only make a mess of it. What is the use dropping one drop of vinegar into such a great big honey pot?"

"You are a saucy boy," retorted Lucy, in tones of gentle approbation.

A long silence.

"Arthur, will you hold this skein for me?"

Arthur groaned.

"Never mind, dear. I will try and manage with a chair."

"No you won't, now; there."

The victim was caught by the hands. But with fatal instinctive perverseness he sat in silent amazement watching Lucy's supple white hand disentangling impossibilities instead of chattering as he was intended to. Lucy gave a little sigh. Here was a dreadful business--obliged to elicit the information she had resolved should be forced upon her.

"By the by, Arthur," said she, carelessly, "did Mr. Dodd say anything to you on the lawn?"

"What about?"

"About what was said after you went out so ru--so suddenly."

"No; why? what was said? Something about me? Tell me."

"Oh, no, dear; as Mr. Dodd did not mention it, it is not worth while.

You must not move your hands, please."

"Now, Lucy, that is too bad. It is not fair to excite one's curiosity and then stop directly."

"But it is nothing. Mr. Talboys teased Mr. Dodd a little, that is all, and Mr. Dodd was not so patient as I have seen him on like occasions.

There, _you_ are disentangled at last."

"Now, signorina, let us talk sense. Tell me, which do you like best of all the gentlemen that come here?"

"You, dear; only keep your hands still."

"None of your chaff, Lucy."

"Chaff! what is that?"

"Flattery, then. I hope it isn't that affected fool Talboys, for I hate hun."

"I cannot undertake to share your prejudices, Mr. Arthur."

"Then you actually like him."

"I don't dislike him."

"Then I pity your taste, that is all."

"Mr. Talboys has many good qualities; and if he was what you describe him, Uncle Fountain would not prize him as he does."

"There is something in that, Lucy; but I think my guardian and you are mad upon just that one point. Talboys is a fool and a sn.o.b."

"Arthur," said Lucy, severely, "if you speak so of my uncle's friends, you and I shall quarrel."

"You won't quarrel just now, if you can help it."

"Won't I, though? Why not, pray?"

"Because your skein is not wound yet."

"Oh, you little black-hearted thing!"