“Of course, you’re wasted,” said Spring, turning to the miniature porch. “You ought to be in some Embassy, flattering secretive dowagers. You know. Duels of polished wit and sleight of tongue. Never mind. I’ve got a great idea. I’ll tell it you over the tea I’ve let you in for.” Bagot put his head on one side. “Yet she looks generous,” he said. “Of course, it’s a proud mouth.” “It’s a thirsty one,” said Spring, passing inside. Old William served them devotedly, hissing a little with excitement from time to time. He had not waited on a lady for many a year. Besides, that his master should have company at the lodge delighted his heart. Willoughby’s monkhood went against the groom’s grain. “And so,” said Bagot, frowning at the weather-beaten cup, which the proud mouth was using, “you managed to get to Holy Brush.” Spring nodded. “Tact,” she said. “I ought to be at an Embassy, too. I was most skilful. What I was really up against was that there’s only one bathroom at _The Jade_: but I said that that was a custom which was rapidly dying out and that one day we should be proud to say that we’d used a common bath, just as some people boast of remembering inns where everybody sat around the same big dish, spoon in hand.” “Do they? I mean, shall you?” “I hope so. Any way, it did the trick, and now she’s perfectly delighted. She’s bought two ‘gate’ tables already, and I left her on the bowling-green, telling the landlord the history of his church.” “I congratulate myself. If only a certain custom wasn’t already dead—that of living and letting live—I’ld put myself at your service.” “Which,” said Spring thoughtfully, “brings us to my idea. If you want Chancery back, I think you may have it.” “How?” “Go to America,” said Spring. “You had a good time there before.” “I should think I did,” said Bagot. “Your people are wonderfully kind.” “Well, go. Don’t call yourself Worcester, you know. And use your—your sleight of tongue. With ordinary care you ought to marry an heiress within six months.” She paused to take another piece of toast. “It’s been done before,” she added carelessly. There was a long silence. At length— “I’m afraid I’m a bad business man,” said Willoughby quietly. “Perhaps,” said Spring. “In fact, it’s fairly obvious that, commercially, the Gray Bagots weren’t in it with the Harps. But why be foolish? You needn’t marry the first one that comes along. They’re not all Harps, you know. Some of our psalteries are quite passable.” “Would you do a thing like that?” “I don’t know. But then, I’m a fool.” “Exactly,” said Willoughby. “So’m I.” Spring frowned.