"The fact of the matter is, you like this rehearsing business. It's madness!" he said. "And I expect you like seeing Master Tom, and that is madness, too. He and Lena Lakeman have always been fond of each other, and you will only upset their relations with your pretty eyes, or ruin your own peace of mind." A more untactful gentleman than Sir George in a matter of this sort it would have been difficult to find. "I suppose you know that he and Lena Lakeman are fond of each other? She's fond of him, at any rate, or else it would have been the best thing in the world; 'pon my soul, I wish some one would marry you." "But I don't want to be married." Margaret was indignant, but amused at his vehemence. "Yes, you do," he said, recovering his good humor. "All girls want to be married--nice girls, that is. Quite right, too. For my part, I think women ought to be married as soon as possible; if they are single at eight-and-twenty, they ought to be shunted off to the colonies. They are only in the way here; but they might be of some use out there." "Do you think I ought to go after my father to Australia?" Margaret asked, demurely, with a twinkle in her eye. "No, my dear, I don't think that." He was quite pacified by this time. "But I think you ought to go home, and, if you can't do that, you had better come and stay with me. I'm going to Chidhurst myself at the end of the week--day after to-morrow--if I can get off, unless I go to Dieppe for a few days first; better come with me--perhaps that wouldn't do either. 'Pon my soul, a young lady is a very difficult thing to manage." "I am quite safe here, dear Sir George," she said. "When you are at Chidhurst I wish you would go and see my mother." "I'll go and see your mother, and tell her she ought to be ashamed of herself to let you stay here." His voice had become abstracted; he was evidently considering something in his own mind. He got up and walked up and down once or twice. He turned and looked at Margaret half wonderingly, then at himself in the glass, and at her again. "My dear Margaret," he said, "I dare say you will think I am as mad as a hatter, but do you think you could marry me?" She nearly bounded off her chair. "Marry you?" "Well, really, it seems to me that it's the best way out of it. I'm five years older than your father, but there's life in the old dog yet. You are a beautiful girl--I thought so the first moment I saw you--and I could be thoroughly fond of you. In fact, I believe I am already. I have no one belonging to me in the world except my sister, and I'm afraid she won't be here long, poor thing; no entanglements of any sort--never had. Quite well off; can give you as many pretty things as you like, and I'll take care of you, and not be grumpy. Do you think you could?" "Oh no, I couldn't, indeed!" She was still staring at him, but she put both her hands into his with frank astonishment. "You are very kind, but you are--" "Old, eh?"