“There now, don’t go on rubbing it in,” he said resentfully. “I’ve told you often that Harrowside is a great big black rookery of a place. I can’t stand it! No, I never go near it.” “It is your duty; you have responsibilities. ‘Noblesse oblige.’” “Since I’ve been in bad health----” “That’s an old story,” she interposed. “You are as strong as a horse now.” “Well, Joseline, you talk of my responsibilities; what would you think of taking charge of them, and me?” He turned his head suddenly and looked at his companion with a complacent, proprietary air. Then he added, in his usual drawl-- “What would you say if we were to get married?” “Say!”--and she dug her mallet into the turf. “That we would lead a cat-and-dog life!” “And which”--sitting erect--“would be the cat?” “I--I suppose a woman is always a cat! You never call a man a cat, or an old cat.” “No, I’m a dog--the unlucky dog.” “No, a lazy dog,” she corrected. “There are always puppies, and lap-dogs.” “Do you infer that I am one of these?” “Well, you are petted enough. You live in the lap of luxury--I believe you don’t even shave, or open your own letters.” “What else?” he demanded shortly. “You won’t take the trouble to, what’s called make love! You say to a girl, ‘Shall we get married?’ and the girl says, No.” Dudley again turned his head, and looked at her steadily. Was she in earnest? Of course not! She was smiling. To her, everything was a joke; it was one of her silly habits imported from Ireland, and not yet abandoned. Well, he was in no hurry; he did not wish to settle down at present. Joseline was amazingly improved--a handsome, amusing, much-admired girl, clever in her way; even Lady Mulgrave was reconciled to her. To suppose that any sane young woman would seriously refuse him, Dudley Deverell, never dawned on his mind. He decided to postpone the question. “I say, here is your father coming over with that fellow Doran,” he announced. “I hear his brother has married a dairy-maid, who turned his mother out of doors.” “I’m sure she could not manage that,--from what I knew of her.” “Do you mean that _you_ knew Mrs. Doran?” he asked, with quickened interest. “Yes, I was reared on the land.” “I declare, one would suppose you were talking of a lamb.” “I _am_ a lamb--sometimes. I sold her eggs.” “Ah, now I begin to see light,” exclaimed Dudley--“to see--many things.” “To see further than your nose?” “Yes”--rising to his feet--“I have it! Lady Mulgrave gave me a hint, but I laughed at her. Is this Doran the son who did _not_ present you with the locket and chain?” “He is,” and she sat up abruptly. “And perhaps he would like to offer you something instead; for instance, a ring?” Joseline coloured, and nodded assent. “Ah! I understand where I’ve been remiss, and he has been successful. These Irish fellows are tremendous hands at making love!” He paused, momentarily overwhelmed with the shock of his discovery.