"Mr. Sutton? Oh, I know him," exclaimed Mrs. Marland. "He's charming!" "Then you shall entertain him," said Charlie. "I resign him." "I can't think why you're not more pleased to have him here, Charlie," remarked Lady Merceron. "He's very popular in London, isn't he, Vansittart?" "I've met him at some very good houses," answered Mr. Vansittart. And that, he seemed to imply, is better than mere popularity. "The Bushells were delighted with him last time he was here," continued Lady Merceron. "There! A rival for you!" Mrs. Marland whispered. Charlie laughed cheerfully. Sutton would be no rival of his, he thought; and if he and Millie liked one another, by all means let them take one another. A month before he would hardly have dismissed the question in so summary a fashion, for the habit of regarding Millie as a possibility and her readiness as a fact had grown strong by the custom of years, and, far as he was from a passion, he might not have enjoyed seeing her allegiance transferred to Victor Sutton. Certainly he would have suffered defeat from that hand with very bad grace. Now, however, everything was changed. "Vansittart," said Lady Merceron, "Charlie and I want to consult you (she often coupled Charlie's hypothetical desire for advice with her own actual one in appeals to Mr. Vansittart) about Mr. Prime's rent." "Oh, at the old farm?" "Yes. He wants another reduction." "He'll want to be paid for staying there next." "Well, poor man, he's had to take lodgers this summer--a thing he's never done before. Charlie, did you know that?" "Yes," said Charlie, interrupting an animated conversation which he had started with Mrs. Marland. "Do you know who they are?" pursued his mother, wandering from Mr. Prime's rent to the more interesting subject of his lodgers. "Ladies from London," answered Charlie. "Rather vague," commented Mr. Vansittart. "Young ladies or old ladies, Charlie?" "Why does he want to know?" asked Mrs. Marland; but chaff had about as much effect on Mr. Vansittart as it would have on an ironclad. He seemed not to hear, and awaited an answer with a bland smile. In truth, he thought Mrs. Marland a silly woman. "Young, I believe," answered Charlie, in a careless tone. "It's curious I've not seen them about," said Lady Merceron. "I pass the farm almost every day. Who are they, Charlie?" "One's a Miss Wallace. She's engaged to Willie Prime." "To Willie? Fancy!" "H'm! I think," remarked Mr. Vansittart, "that, from the point of view of a reduction of rent, these lodgers are a delusion. Of course she stays with Prime if she's going to many his son." "Fancy Willie!" reiterated Lady Merceron. "Surely he can't afford to marry? He's in a bank, you know, Vansittart, and he only gets a hundred and twenty pounds a year." "One blessing of the country is that everybody knows his neighbor's income," observed Mr. Vansittart. "Perhaps the lady has money," suggested Mrs. Marland. "But, Mr. Merceron, who's the other lady?"