"I say, Margaret," said the graceless youth, stopping a moment, "old mother Frewen seems as sulphurous as ever. Look at her over there, `testifying.' You ought to have converted her by this time," with a quizzical glance in the direction of an old lady, who was an "aggrieved parishioner" of a perfervid type. "Don't talk nonsense, Eusty. Someone will hear you." "Ha! ha! Let's go and hear her, at a respectful distance, eh, Miss Dorrien?--it'll be fun," suggested crafty Eustace, with the object of beguiling Nellie for a walk round the shrubberies--an object in which he succeeded; and judging from the frequency with which the fair, sweet face was convulsed with laughter, it seemed that they managed to make the time pass right merrily. "Nellie, your mother has been looking for you everywhere. It's time to go home," said a cold voice at her elbow, and turning with a little start of dismay, she found herself face to face with her father, who was looking very stern and gloomy. "Yes, papa. I'm so sorry," and, with a hurried farewell to her companion, she proceeded to obey the implied injunction, her experience warning her that there were squalls ahead; while her late escort, disconsolately anathematising the lord of Cranston as a cantankerous old ruffian, betook himself once more to the assemblage of his fellows. "Who was that boy with whom you spent the afternoon, Nellie?" asked General Dorrien, in the carriage on the way home. "I didn't know I had spent the afternoon with anyone, papa," she replied, as gently as she could. "But if you mean who was I talking to when you came up, it was Mr Eustace Ingelow." "Was it? A most impertinent boy, I call him," went on her father, with a very dark look. "Because he meets anyone in society, that seems a sufficient reason for monopolising them for the rest of the afternoon. An impudent, pushing, and most forward young cub, to come thrusting himself upon us, and you to encourage him! Who is he, I should like to know? We've never seen him before, and, if I can help it, we shall never see him again." Poor Nellie made no reply, beyond a weary little sigh. What had she done? Why, the duration of their harmless little walk had barely exceeded half an hour. And in her heart of hearts she owned to herself that the said half-hour had flown very quickly indeed. "I say, dad," cried Eustace Ingelow that evening at the dinner-table. "I like that man Dorrien. Rather reserved and--er--quiet at first--the sort of man who wants knowing, eh?" "H'm, so that's your opinion, is it?" said the rector, somewhat attentively. "Now I shouldn't have thought he'd have been at all the sort of fellow you'd have taken to at first sight, Eustace." "Yes, he is," replied the Oxonian decidedly. "He's a man with a lot in him, I should think. Now that brother of his--the one that's at Queen's--he's a--a--well, a scrubby sort, but I like this one. Roland, don't they call him, eh?"