Peckover had an idea that he could claim to share the knowledge. "He ought to come to a firm offer if he means business," he said. "Our time here is getting short," Lady Ormstork declared significantly. Not but what she was prepared to grace Great Bunbury with her presence for a twelvemonth if that were likely to bring off the match. "As Ulrica's temporary guardian I cannot allow Quorn to flirt with her indefinitely if he has no intention of proposing." "No," Peckover responded promptly, wondering how he could get a look in. Then a happy idea struck him. "Quorn is a shilly-shallying fellow," he said guilefully. "Can't make up his mind. I usually have to do it for him." "I wish you would in this instance," the lady exclaimed fervently. "Well, I think I might," he replied with sudden animation. "But of course it won't do for me to tell him straight he ought to propose. He'd see you working the figure. No, I've got a more artful plan than that." "Oh, you dear Mr. Gage!" cried Lady Ormstork, brightening at the prospect of an end to her uninteresting sojourn at The Cracknels. "Do tell me." "Easy enough," said Peckover, sparkling likewise; "and highly effective. One trial will prove it, or money returned. Make him jealous." "How can we?" asked the dowager with a dubiousness which her companion did not find altogether complimentary. "Leave it to me," he replied, his sparkle subsiding to a touch of huffiness. "Don't you think I'm equal to it?" "Oh, yes, indeed, dear Mr. Gage," the lady drawled, eyeing him still rather doubtfully. "Don't you make any mistake about it," he protested severely. "I always was first favourite with the ladies, and Quorn knows it--to his cost, I may tell you." "And you are still friends?" was the astute comment. "Sworn friends," Peckover replied with much truth. "I'll prove it by making up his mind for him to marry the finest girl in England." "And what is your plan?" Lady Ormstork inquired approvingly. Rapidly the alert little mind had blocked in the outline of his scheme. "Let me make the running for a lap or two," he suggested. "If that doesn't hurry him up, nothing will. You come up as usual to-morrow; I'll slip away from Quorn, meet you, and go off for a stroll with Miss Ulrica. You come on to the Hall. Tell Quorn offhand, when he asks, what has become of the young lady. Say she thought she'd prefer a stroll with me for a change, and if he sits still after that it's odds against Miss Buffkin being Lady Quorn. You watch the effect." Lady Ormstork looked as though she might be safely trusted to keep her eyes open for it. Next day things happened as had been arranged. Peckover made a timely desertion, and Lady Ormstork arrived at the Towers dignified and alone. "Not brought Miss Buffkin to-day?" Gage asked, trying to look as though he had still got the better half of the Cracknels establishment. "Hope she's not ill?"