'Position he has,' said poor Dulcie, blushing painfully, for though an only and motherless child she stood in awe of her father. 'Position--a deuced bad one, I think!' 'The other two items will come in time, papa,' said Dulcie, laughing now. 'When?' Dulcie was silent, and--for the first time in her life--thought sadly, 'Yes, when!' But she pressed a pretty white hand upon the silver locket in her bosom, as if to draw courage therefrom as from an amulet. 'Why, lass, he can't keep even the roof of a _cob_ cottage over your head.' 'Well, papa, remember our hopeful Devonshire proverb--a good cob, a good hat and shoes, and a good heart last for ever.' 'Right, lass, and a good heart have you, my darling,' said Mr. Carlyon, kissing her peach-like cheek, for he was a kind and good-hearted man, though somewhat rough in his exterior, and more like a grazier than a lawyer. 'You are both too young to know what you are talking about. He'll be going away, however--can't live always on his father, and _he_, poor fellow, won't last long. The fancy of you both will wear itself out, like any other summer flirtation--I had many such in my time,' he added, with a chuckle, 'and got safely over them all. So will you, lass, and marry into some good family, getting a husband that will give you a comfortable home--for instance, Job Holbeton, with his pits of Bovey coal.' Poor little Dulcie shivered, and could scarcely restrain her tears at the hard, practical suggestions of her father. Hard-featured, stout, and grizzled Joe Holbeton versus her handsome Florian! Her father spoke, too, of his probable 'going away.' Was this the presentiment to which her lover had referred? It almost seemed so. In the sunset she went forth into the garden to work with her wools, and even to have a 'good cry' over what her father had said; but in this she was prevented by suddenly finding Shafto stretched on the grass at her feet under a pine chestnut-tree--Shafto, whom she could only tolerate for Florian's sake. 'Why do you stare at me so hard, Shafto,' she asked, with unconcealed annoyance. 'Staring, was I?' 'Yes, like an owl.' 'I always like to see girls working.' 'Indeed!' 'And the work, what do you call it?' 'Crewel work. And you like to see us busy?' 'Yes, especially when the work is done by hands so pretty and white.' 'As mine, you mean, of course?' 'Yes, Dulcie. How you do bewilder a fellow!' 'Don't begin as usual to pay me clumsy compliments, Shafto, or I shall quit the garden,' said Dulcie, her blue eyes looking with a half-frightened, half-defiant expression into the keen, shifty, and pale grey ones of Shafto, who was somewhat given to persecuting her. He could see the outline of the locket with every respiration of her bosom. Could he but possess himself of it, thought he, as he proceeded to fill his meerschaum pipe. 'I thought gentlemen did not smoke in ladies' society unless with permission,' said Dulcie.