“Still, I don’t see why he should alter all his--” “Oh, you are stupid! Of course, he liked me, you know.” “Oh, did he? I see.” “You seem to think that very funny.” “Not that he did--but that, apparently, he doesn’t.” “Well you got out of that rather neatly--for you. No, he doesn’t now. You see, he misunderstood my motive. He thought--well, I do believe he thought I cared for him, you know. Of course I didn’t.” “Not a bit?” “Just as a friend--and a pupil, you know. And when he’d had his hair cut and bought a frock coat (fancy he’d never had one!), he looked quite nice. He has nice eyes. Did you notice them.” “Lord, no!” “Well, you’re so unobservant.” “Oh, not always. I’ve observed that your--” “Please don’t! It’s no use, is it?” I looked very unhappy. There is an understanding that I am very unhappy since Miss Foster’s engagement to the Earl of Mickleham was announced. “What was I saying before--before you--you know--oh, about Phil Meadows, of course. I did like him very much, you know, or I shouldn’t have taken all that trouble. Why, his own mother thanked me!” “I have no more to say,” said I. “But she wrote me a horrid letter afterward.” “You’re so very elliptical.” “So very what, Mr. Carter?” “You leave so much out, I mean. After what?” “Why, after I sent him away. Didn’t I tell you? Oh, we had the most awful scene. He raved, Mr. Carter. He called me the most horrid names, and--” “Tore his hair?” “It wasn’t long enough to get hold of,” she tittered. “But don’t laugh. It was really dreadful. And so unjust! And then, next day, when I thought it was comfortably over, you know, he came back, and--and apologized, and called himself the most awful names, and--well, that was really worse.” “What did the fellow complain of?” I asked in wondering tones. “Oh, he said I’d destroyed his faith in women, you know, and that I’d led him on, and that I was--well, he was very rude indeed. And he went on writing me letters like that for a whole year? It made me quite uncomfortable.” “But he didn’t go back to short trousers and a fiddle, did he?” I asked anxiously. “Oh, no. But he forgot all he owed me, and he told me that his heart was dead, and that he should never love any one again.” “But he’s going to marry that girl.” “Oh, he doesn’t care about her,” said Miss Dolly reassuringly. “It’s the money, you know. He hadn’t a farthing of his own. Now he’ll be set up for life.” “And it’s all due to you!” said I admiringly. “Well, it is, really.” “I don’t call her such a bad-looking girl, though.” (I hadn’t seen her face.) “Mr. Carter! She’s hideous!” I dropped that subject. “And now,” said Miss Dolly again, “he cuts me dead!” “It is the height of ingratitude. Why, to love you was a liberal education!” “Yes, wasn’t it? How nicely you put that. A liberal education!’ I shall tell Archie.” (Archie is Lord Mickleham.) “What, about Phil Meadows?” “Goodness me, no, Mr. Carter. Just what you said, you know.”