'The conditions of the will are to be carried out, my friend.'

Mrs. Byw.a.n.k brought her hands together with a sense of relief and gladness that somehow went to her eyes too, and she was silent a little.

'I did hope it, sir!--And I would far rather apply to you than to Mr. Falkirk. _He_ frets me sometimes,' added the old housekeeper: 'I may say that to you, sir. Now, she's been wild to ride all summer,--and a dozen wild to have her; and Mr.

Falkirk has never let her go once. And so long as he _does_ let her go and dance with the same people, I don't for my part see why.'

'Perhaps he does,' said Rollo, rather dryly. 'But I have made the requisite declarations in presence of Mr. Falkirk and Dr.

Maryland, and am legally qualified to act, Mrs. Byw.a.n.k. _She_ does not know anything of this; and it is not best she should-- for the present.'

'No sir--by no means,' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, earnestly. 'For if there is anything miss Wych does hate, it is to have a gentleman speak to her about her doings. When that happens she thinks she's supposed to have done something dreadful; and it hurts her more than you would guess, sir. Little child as she was then, she would cry her eyes out over a word from Mr.

Kennedy, but her mother might say anything. And it has always been just so with Mr. Falkirk. Only Miss Wych never cries for _him_. At least n.o.body ever sees her.'

Now, instead of Mr. Rollo's being alarmed at this, as another man might, it was answered by a certain humourous play of face; a slight significance of lip and air, quite difficult to characterize. It was not arrogant, nor arbitrary; I do not know how to call it masterful; and yet certainly it expressed no dismay and no apprehension. Perhaps it expressed that he intended to be in a different category from other men. Perhaps he thought Mrs. Byw.a.n.k meant to read him a cautionary lesson.

'She is in rather a hard position,' he said, gravely. 'I am glad she has got a good friend in you, Mrs. Byw.a.n.k. And I am glad _I_ have, too.'

'Yes, it is hard,' said the old housekeeper, with a glance at him; 'though it is not to be expected, sir, that you should quite understand it. But Miss Wych is the lovingest little creature that ever lived, I believe, and as true as the sky.

Why, she could cheat Mr. Falkirk day in and day out if she chose!--but if ever those young men _should_ get her to ride, against his orders, she would go and tell him of it, the first minute after she got home.'

Rollo did not ask whether they could do this, or had done it.

He went on quietly with his breakfast, only glancing up at Mrs. Byw.a.n.k to let her see that he was attending to her.

'So that's a great safeguard,' she began again, with a sigh.

'But I wish Mrs. Coles was back in Chicago! Miss Fisher was bad enough. And what the two will do between them--'

'What does Miss Fisher do?'

'It is plain to me,' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, 'that she wants to pull my young lady down to her way of dress and behaviour; though Miss Wych don't guess it a bit. _That_ she can never do, of course. But it is just like Miss Fisher to push where she can't pull. Do you understand me, sir?'

'Quite.'

'So that makes me anxious, sir. And there are hands enough to help.'

Leaning somewhat towards her young guest, breakfast rather forgotten on both sides, so they sat; when the door opened softly and Wych Hazel came in. But if the first minute inside the door could have been instantly exchanged for the last one outside, it is probable that the young lady of Chickaree would have disturbed no cabinet council over her that day. For with the first sight of the very people she expected to find, there rushed over her a horrible fear that Mr. Rollo would think she had come to see _him!_--and that Mrs. Byw.a.n.k would think so--and (worst of all) that she thought so herself! But there was no retreating now. So pa.s.sing swiftly to the old housekeeper's chair, and laying both hands on her shoulders to keep her in it, Hazel stooped down to kiss her; and then straightening herself up like a young arrow, she gave from behind Mrs.

Byw.a.n.k a demure good-morning to Mr. Rollo.

That gentleman had not been so much engrossed with the conversation as to have at all the air of being 'surprised,'

or he was too good a man of the world to shew it. He had sprung up instantly as Wych Hazel came in, and now he came round to where she stood to shake hands, looking very bright, but as if her appearance was the simplest thing in the world.

'You have not had breakfast?' he said.

'I have had the opportunity. But you look altogether too comfortable here, you and Mrs. Byw.a.n.k!--As for me, I have been breakfasting with two bears, and had nearly forgotten how civilization acts.'

'My dear!' said Mrs. Byw.a.n.k.--'Not "breakfasting"--when you were coming here, Miss Wych?'

'Not much, Byo, to say the truth. I gave Mr. Falkirk _his_ coffee--hot and hot.'

'He didn't give you waffles,' said Rollo, making room for her plate and cup upon the table. 'Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, we must take care of her. I shall never grumble at sending answers to invitations after this.'

He was rendering little services and making himself variously useful, with the air of a person more at home than she was: drawing down a blind to keep the sun from her face, and opening another window to let in the air and the view.

'Take care of me!' said Wych Hazel, with a look at the table instead of at him, and then beginning to touch and mend things generally to suit her fancy. 'It is very plain what _I_ have to do! There is the jar of marmalade quite pushed out of reach.

And if you do not empty it, Mr. Rollo, Mrs. Byw.a.n.k will think you have not fulfilled the sweet promise of your earlier years.'

'My dear!' remonstrated Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, uneasily.

'I have satisfied her,' said Rollo, dryly. 'But there is a little left for you. There wouldn't have been if the two bears had known where it was.'

'Mr. Falkirk was fearfully growly this morning,' said Wych Hazel. 'And every time he growled Gotham grumbled. So I had a fusillade. Where is your fruit, Byo?'

'There was none brought in yesterday, Miss Wych, I'm sorry to say.'

'None at all in the house?'

'There's a basket in your room, my dear; but of course'--

'Not "of course" at all,' said the girl, jumping up to go for it. 'You know that is a sort of fruit I never eat.'

Which might have left it doubtful what sort she _did_ eat,--the basket contained so many, in such splendid variety. Hazel sat down in her place and began to pile up the beauties in a majolica dish.

'Aren't you going to give me some?' said Rollo, looking on.

The answer tarried while Hazel's little fingers dived down after peaches and plums of extra size with which to crown her dish; but so doing, they suddenly brought up a white note, suspiciously sealed with red wax. The girl dropped it, as if it had been a wasp; and hastily setting the basket down on the floor, pushed the unfinished dish to a position before Mr.

Rollo.

'There!' she said, 'will that do?'

'Do you mean that you give me all these?'

'Every bit.'

'Mrs. Byw.a.n.k, might I make interest with you for a finger- gla.s.s?'

Which being supplied, the gentleman proceeded to a leisurely ablution of his fingers, and then looked at the dish of fruit before him with grave consideration.

'Which is the best?' said he.

'They all look about alike, to me,' said Wych Hazel, raising her eyebrows. 'I shall be happy to hear, when you have found out.'

Exercising a great deal of deliberation, Rollo finally chose out a bunch of Frontignac grapes and two Moorpark apricots, and set them before Wych Hazel.

'Will you accept these from me?' he said, coolly. 'They are my own property, and are offered to you. Taste and see if they are as good as they ought to be.'

She looked up, and down, laughing.

'That is the way you come round people! Will you take the responsibility? Suppose I am asked, some day, whether they-- were--what they ought to be?'

'You can puzzle him just as well after knowing the fact, as before,' Rollo said, with perfect gravity.