Ida looked up in remonstrance, and opened her lips to speak, and then for some reason that did not appear changed her mind and held out her hand. “Good-night, Colonel Quaritch,” she said; “I am so pleased that we are going to have you as a neighbour. By-the-way, I have a few people coming to play lawn tennis here to-morrow afternoon, will you come too?” “What,” broke in the Squire, in a voice of irritation, “more lawn tennis parties, Ida? I think that you might have spared me for once—with all this business on my hands, too.” “Nonsense, father,” said his daughter, with some acerbity. “How can a few people playing lawn tennis hurt you? It is quite useless to shut oneself up and be miserable over things that one cannot help.” The old gentleman collapsed with an air of pious resignation, and meekly asked who was coming. “Oh, nobody in particular. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries—Mr. Jeffries is our clergyman, you know, Colonel Quaritch—and Dr. Bass and the two Miss Smiths, one of whom he is supposed to be in love with, and Mr. and Mrs. Quest, and Mr. Edward Cossey, and a few more.” “Mr. Edward Cossey,” said the Squire, jumping off his chair; “really, Ida, you know I detest that young man, that I consider him an abominable young man; and I think you might have shown more consideration to me than to have asked him here.” “I could not help it, father,” she answered coolly. “He was with Mrs. Quest when I asked her, so I had to ask him too. Besides, I rather like Mr. Cossey, he is always so polite, and I don’t see why you should take such a violent prejudice against him. Anyhow, he is coming, and there is an end of it.” “Cossey, Cossey,” said Harold, throwing himself into the breach, “I used to know that name.” It seemed to Ida that he winced a little as he said it. “Is he one of the great banking family?” “Yes,” said Ida, “he is one of the sons. They say he will have half a million of money or more when his father, who is very infirm, dies. He is looking after the branch banks of his house in this part of the world, at least nominally. I fancy that Mr. Quest really manages them; certainly he manages the Boisingham branch.” “Well, well,” said the Squire, “if they are coming, I suppose they are coming. At any rate, I can go out. If you are going home, Quaritch, I will walk with you. I want a little air.” “Colonel Quaritch, you have not said if you will come to my party to-morrow, yet,” said Ida, as he stretched out his hand to say good-bye. “Oh, thank you, Miss de la Molle; yes, I think I can come, though I play tennis atrociously.” “Oh, we all do that. Well, good-night. I am so very pleased that you have come to live at Molehill; it will be so nice for my father to have a companion,” she added as an afterthought. “Yes,” said the Colonel grimly, “we are almost of an age—good-night.”