Five minutes later the doctor and his wife were alone, the former being called to account for his very warm advocacy of Mr Harley.

"Well, my dear, he deserves it all," said the doctor.

"But I don't quite like his behaviour towards Helen Perowne," said the little lady; "and now we are upon the subject, Harry, I must say that I don't quite like your conduct towards that girl."

The doctor turned, took her hands, held them, and laughed.

"Why, what a droll little body you are, Mary!"

"And why, sir, pray?" said the lady, rather sharply.

"Four or five months ago, my dear, I don't believe you knew the real meaning of the word _love_, and now I honestly believe you are finding out the meaning of the word _jealousy_ as well; but seriously, my dear, that girl makes me shiver!"

"Shiver, sir! Why?"

"She's a regular firebrand coming amongst our young men. She'll do no end of mischief. I see it as plain as can be, and I shall have to set to as soon as I get home to compound a fresh medicine--pills at night, draught in the morning--for the cure of love-sickness. She'll give the lot the complaint. But, you dear, silly little old woman, you don't think that I--oh!--oh! come, Mary, Mary, my dear!"

"Well, there, I don't think so, Harry," said the little lady, apologetically, "but she is so horribly handsome, and makes such use of those dreadful eyes of hers, that it makes me cross when I see the gentlemen obeying her lightest beck and call."

"Well, she does lead them about pretty well," chuckled the doctor.

"She's a handsome girl!"

"Henry!"

"Well, my dear, I'll think she's as ugly as sin if you like."

"And in spite of all you say of Mr Harley, I don't think he is behaving well. She gave him a few of those looks of hers when he came down to our wedding, and he has been following her ever since. I've watched him!"

"What a wicked wretch!" chuckled the little doctor. "Has he taken a fancy to a pretty girl, then, and made up his mind to win? Why, he's as bad as that scoundrel Harry Bolter, who wouldn't take _no_ for an answer, and did not."

"Now, don't talk nonsense, Henry. This is too serious a subject for joking."

"I am as serious as a judge, Polly."

"What!"

"Is there anything the matter, my dear?" said the little doctor, who was startled by the lady's energy.

"What did you call me, sir?"

"Polly, my dear; tender pet name for Mary."

"Never again please, dear Henry," said the little lady. "I don't wish to be too particular, and don't mind tenderness--I--I--rather like it, dear. But do I look like a lady who could be called Polly?"

"Then it shall always be Mary, my dear," said the doctor; "and I won't joke about serious matters. As to Neil Harley and Helen Perowne, you're quite right; but 'pon my word, I don't see why we should interfere as long as matters don't go too far."

"I do not agree with you, Henry."

"You have not heard my argument, my dear," he said taking her hand, drawing it through his arm, and walking her up and down the deck. "Now look here, my dear Mary, six months ago you were a miserable unbeliever."

"A what?" cried the lady, indignantly.

"A miserable unbeliever. You had no faith in its being the duty of all ladies to get married; and I came to your barbarous little village and converted you."

"Oh, yes, I had great belief," said the little lady, quietly.

"Well, then, you were waiting for the missionary to come and lead your belief the right way. Now then, my dear, don't you see this? Suppose a place where there are a dozen ladies and only one gentleman. How many can be married?"

"Why, only one lady, of course," said Mrs Doctor.

"Exactly, my dear," said the doctor; "but it is a moral certainty that the gentleman will be married."

"Well, yes, I suppose so," replied Mrs Doctor.

"Suppose so? Why, they'd combine and kill him for an unnatural monster if he did not marry one of them," said the doctor, laughing. "Well, then, my dear, suppose we reverse the case, and take a young and very handsome lady to a station in an out-of-the-way part of the world, where the proportions are as one to twenty--one lady to twenty gentlemen--what is the moral result?"

"I suppose she would be sure to be married?"

"Exactly, my dear. Well, as our handsome young charge evidently thinks a very great deal about love-making--"

"A very great deal too much," said Mrs Doctor, tartly.

"Exactly so, my dear. Well, she is going to such a place. What ought we to do?"

"See of course that she does not make a foolish match."

"Ex--actly!" cried the doctor. "Well, Harley seems to have taken a fancy to her at once. Good man--good position--not too old."

"I don't know," said the lady, dubiously, "I don't quite think they would match."

"I do," said the doctor, sharply. "The very man. Plenty of firmness.

He's as genial and warm-hearted as a man can be; but he has a will like iron. He'd break in my young madam there; and, by Jove! ma'am, if I am a judge of woman's nature--"

"Which you are not, sir," said the lady, sharply. "Well, perhaps not; but I do say this--if ever there was a Petruchio cut out for our handsome, dark-eyed Katherine, then Neil Harley is the man!"

"Here, doctor, where are you? Come along!" cried the gentleman in question. "Music--music! Miss Perowne has promised to sing!"

"Have you been persuading her, Mr Harley?" said the little lady.

"I? My dear madam, no! She refused me; but has been listening to the blandishments of Captain Lindley; and--there--she is beginning. By Jove! what a voice!"

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

LIEUTENANT CHUMBLEY.