“I see you do! Good! My dear, I’m delighted to find that Billy’s sweetheart sees eye to eye with Billy’s uncle on so many points. That’s why I’m taking you out this morning—Oh, yes! you too, my boy! Not going to separate the turtle-doves!—going to take you both out if you can beg mother off from church. I’m going to motor you over—not a hundred miles away, and show you something—Aha! Something that I fancy you will approve of as much as I do!” “Heavens! What will this new horror turn out to be?” thought I; catching the same question in the Governor’s eye as we entered the dining-room, where the family, including Cariad, was already at breakfast, and sat down to the coffee and bacon of old Mr. Waters’ disgusting metaphor. We weren’t long spared the answer to that question. “Now, Mary! I’ve just been telling our two young people here,” began Uncle Albert almost at once, “that they’re going over in the car with me this fine morning to look at something I particularly want them to see. Now, I’ll give you three guesses what it is—No, I won’t—” (Interrupting Theo, who had leapt up in her chair with a shriek of “Wedding presents! That picture!”) “—I want the pleasure of telling you myself. Picture? No, child. Something to put the picture in—to _be_ the picture in, ho, ho! It’s a house to let!” “A _house_!” murmured Blanche, clasping her hands, and obviously seeing herself helping to arrange the flowers in it. “A charming house, only fifteen miles from here. Just the place for Billy and his Nancy to settle down in when they get married,” enlarged the elderly _enfant terrible_. “In fact, once they’ve seen it, they’ll want to motor on and order that special licence at once, I shouldn’t wonder!” Mercy! I turned my eyes to Mrs. Waters, as if imploring her help to change the conversation; she only nodded and smiled and murmured: “Pretty blouse—I always like you in lacy white things, Nancy!” There was no checking Uncle Albert; on he went: “I was looking at the place only last week, and it’s still going! There’s a rose-garden, my dear, almost as prettily arranged as the one here that you were billing and cooing in just now. And a splendid vegetable garden for the more practical side of life. South aspect!—Very excellent fish-curry, Mary—Nice, airy bedrooms! _And_”—his voice took on an impressive rallentando—“Now, what do you think? A little—a little white wicket-gate at the top of the stairs! That’s the crowning touch, eh?” Yes. It was. “That was what took _my_ fancy, you know! I immediately said to myself——” At all costs, I felt, must Uncle Albert be kept from repeating what he had said to himself. “Yes—But, Mr. Waters,” I interrupted wildly, “I’m so afraid that that house wouldn’t—couldn’t do for _us_!” “What, my dear! Why not? If you only see it, you’ll say as I did——”