"Mount Pleasant is not inaccessible," responded Dale with equal coldness. Returning to the house, he found Nellie gone, the company dispersed, and Mrs. Hodge in his smoking room, apparently expecting him. "Well, mother," he said,--he had used to call her "mother" when he was always running in and out of her house in London,--"Nellie looks quite blooming." "She's mending nicely." "I hear she's to go to the Smiths'." "Well, I thought of taking her to Brighton." "Oh, it will be more amusing at the Smiths'; unless, of course, she needs the sea." "She thought, or I thought rather, that you might like to come with us for a while?" said Mrs. Hodge in a tentative tone. "I can't get away," answered Dale decisively. Nothing would have taken him away from the Grange gates. Mrs. Hodge took her courage in both hands. "Look here, Dale," she said. "You know I'm not one of those women that lay hold of a man if he as much as looks at a girl, and asks him what he means by it. That's not my way. Hodge used to say girls could take care of themselves mostly--p'r'aps he wasn't far out. But Nellie's not that sort, and her father's gone, good man, and----" and the excellent lady came to a full stop. Dale loved this honest old woman for long acquaintance' sake and much kindness. He laid his hand on her shoulder and said: "It's a sad world, mother." "The child's fond of you, Dale. She's shown that." "I'm a crossed lover too, mother. We can only weep together." "What, you mean that Grange girl?" asked Mrs. Hodge, her love for her own making her tone tart. "Yes, that Grange girl," answered Dale, with a rueful smile. "And just at present that Grange girl won't have anything to say to me." Mrs. Hodge pressed his hand and whispered: "Don't you tell Nellie what I say, but let her go, dearie, and take my girl. She's sick for you, Dale, though she'd kill me if she heard me say it." "Aye, but I'm sick for the Grange girl, mother." "You don't take it ill of me, Dale? But there! a kind word from you is more than the doctors to her. She'd say nothing of what she's done, and I say nothing, but she's a good girl, and a pretty girl." "That she is, and she deserves a better man than I am." "Well, there it is! Talking mends no holes," said Mrs. Hodge, with a heavy sigh. Then she added, in an outburst of impatience: "Why did you ever come to this miserable little place?" Dale raised inquiring hands to heaven and shrugged his shoulders. "What they call fate, mother," said he. "Come, cheer up. She'll get over this little idea. She'll be all right." "Please God," said Mrs. Hodge. "It's time for her beef-tea."