This should not be. In the time honoured cause of woman's rights, this neglect must be protested against. Let us reward our royal plate cleaners and caustic partisans as much as the nation pleases, but think also of the noble women of England, and their fortune and husband-hunting claims! Lady Inskip was one of the most skilled and to be honoured of her class. Not only did she lead Pringle up to the point--but, knowing his nervousness, she also saved him the trouble of coming to a declaration. She did it for him herself, and this is how it happened. She could be very confidential, you know, and was well fitted to assume the maternal _role_, and "talk as a mother myself," whenever it was required of her. She had once before done so to Pringle on Lizzie's account, as was mentioned in a former chapter; so nothing was more easy and graceful than to assume the same _role_ now in his own interests while talking to himself. She determined to make the proposal for him, as he was too shy to make it himself; although in so doing, she spoilt considerable hopes of fun at the "fast" Carry's part, who had declared over and over again in the family circle that she "would give worlds to see the mild parson pop," provoking a mild "how can you be so absurd, Carry!" from Laura, who yet could not prevent a feeble smile at the possibility of such a _tableau_, and "you ought to be ashamed of yourself, miss!" from her mother; while the young imp, Sir Mortimer, gave vent to a triumphant war whoop, and declared that it would be "awful larks! to see Pringle on his knees!" The darling, naughty boy, to be sure! When the campaigner perceived from sundry unmistakable symptoms that things had been brought to a crisis, she prepared to act. One day, after Pringle had been more bashful and nervous than ever, although still very attentive to Laura, when there had been some weeks of intercourse between the pair since the first descent on Bigton, Lady Inskip "button-holed" him as he was on his way out, and instead of letting him mount his pony at the gate, entreated him to walk a bit down the road with her, as she had something important to say. Pringle, more bashfully still, assented, and passing the bridle of the dapple-grey through his arm, he and the campaigner sauntered off in close confab, watched from the windows of Laburnum Cottage by the young ladies and Mortimer, who seriously wondered what was "up"--one must use slang sometimes; it is so expressive in these very slangy days. "My dear Mr Pringle," began the wily campaigner, "I take a great interest in you, in quite a motherly way, indeed; and you will excuse me speaking on a very delicate matter to you?" "Oh! certainly, Lady Inskip, certainly--anything you know," he stammered, in reply, blushing a rosy red, even beneath his budding whiskers of auburn hue.