Mr. Scratchell did not feel himself called upon to explain to the Vicar all those objections which he had already expounded to Beatrix. If these people liked to make fools of themselves, it was not for him to hinder them. His own interest clearly lay in pleasing Miss Harefield. To do otherwise would be to take the bread out of the mouths of his innocent offspring. And then there was the tempting idea of a holiday in London, and the prospect of a longish bill of costs at the end of all. Decidedly it would be sheer madness stubbornly to oppose this romantic young lady’s caprice. Miss Harefield’s carriage was waiting at the Vicarage gate. ‘It’s a quarter past twelve,’ she said, looking at her watch. ‘You have just an hour and three quarters to pack your carpet bag and drive to the station. Pray don’t miss the two o’clock train. You know where to find Sir Kenrick’s lawyers?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Remember, Sir Kenrick is to know nothing about what we are doing. You are to make that a condition with his bankers. He is to know nothing till I choose to tell him. It will not be later than our wedding-day.’ ‘But the settlement?’ ‘I will have no settlements,’ said Beatrix, impatiently. ‘My dear Miss Harefield, you must be mad.’ ‘At any rate I will have no settlement that can interfere with my payment of those incumbrances. That is a free gift to Sir Kenrick, as much as if I were to give you a hundred-pound note. I never want to hear about it, or to think about it. I look upon the fifty thousand pounds as gone--sunk at the bottom of a well.’ ‘You are a most extraordinary young lady.’ ‘If you waste your time in wondering at me, you will lose the London train.’ Mr. Scratchell got into the carriage obediently, and was driven to his own house, where his apparition in a landau drawn by a pair of spirited horses caused wonder and consternation in all the household. That wonder increased when Mr. Scratchell informed his family that he was going to London on particular business for Miss Harefield, that he wanted a carpet bag packed with three or four shirts--his best--meaning those that were not too conspicuously frayed at the edges of the pleats and collars--and that his wife and children were to look sharp, and were not to bother him with questions. Poor Mrs. Scratchell ran off in a flutter to explore her husband’s wardrobe, in which everything was more or less the worse for wear, except the new suit he had bought for his daughter’s wedding. The girls and boys meanwhile surrounded their father, like the merchant’s daughters in the story of Beauty and the Beast, each anxious that he should bring something from London. ‘Bring me a new dress, papa. If you are going on Miss Harefield’s business you will get lots of money,’ pleaded Clementina. ‘Do bring me a winter bonnet, papa, black velvet lined with pink,’ asked Flora.