He had regained his health in great measure. He did as other people; he joined Elizabeth and her father in their rides and walks; he knew all Captain Gage's tenants; he had been with Elizabeth to the alms-houses; he even carried her basket for her, but always in silence. He had observed her at the head of her father's table, in their large dinner parties; he had gone out with them in return; he had watched the four or five young gentlemen who were pretending timidly to Miss Gage's favour, and the two middle aged men who alternately made her an offer once a quarter. One sunny morning in August, Elizabeth came into the breakfast-room, where her father was standing by the open glass doors, and having embraced him and taken her place before the urn, she saw Sir Philip at a little distance on the lawn, talking to one of the gardeners. "My dear father," said she, "have the charity to tell him breakfast is ready, for I am no Beatrice that I should summon him to table." Captain Gage laughed and made a sign to his friend. "Have you much of a garden at Sherleigh?" he asked, when they were seated at the table. "I dare say not," replied Sir Philip, "I have not been there for years, and people seldom attend much to a garden unless there is a lady to overlook them." "Bessy never does anything to my flowers, except gather them," said Captain Gage. "What!" said Elizabeth, laughing, "did you find out that I took the red passion-flower yesterday?" "Yes, I saw it," said her father, "will you write those letters for me after breakfast?" Elizabeth always wrote her father's business letters. She seated herself at a table and selected pens and paper. "Papa! I must complain of you," she said, "you take my best envelopes for everybody. Suppose I were to want to send out invitations; I should have nothing but coarse paper left." "Which? The envelopes with the crest? Oh! I will be careful in future; you are very stingy of your best paper." "Well, I am to write to Palmer about the meadows, and to Brown about the lease. Anything else?" "Why I don't know what to do about the bees; if you could send a line to Harding--" "My dear father, we are fated never to keep bees, but if you have any fancy for the hives--" "You are a saucy girl; have you written to Palmer?" "Yes, there it is." "Excellent. Oh! what does George mean to do about his brown horse?" "Calypso? He left him here for me to ride during the summer." "You--ride Calypso--my good child, you will break your neck." "If you are going to the farm to-day, my dear father, I will prove to you that Calypso can be ridden without such a catastrophe." "Look here," said her father, taking a letter from a servant, "here are cards for Mrs. Hollingsworth's ball." This was a lady of large fortune in the neighbourhood, whose eldest son was a very persevering admirer of Miss Gage's. Sir Philip was reading the paper in the window. "My dear father, I will not go," said Elizabeth in a low but decided tone.