"Oh no, no!" she said, "but I'm a girl--and I couldn't--" "Why not? It seems to me it would work well enough, my dear." "I couldn't!--I couldn't!" she repeated. "Is it Master Tom?" he asked, like an idiot. "No." "Because he ought to marry Lena Lakeman and no one else." "And I can't marry any one," she answered. He stood still for a moment, holding the hands that she had held out, looking at her gravely. When he spoke there was real feeling in his voice, and Margaret knew it. "Think it over," he said. "I would be very kind to you, dear; you should do pretty much as you liked, and there's no fool like an old fool, remember. I didn't mean to say this when I came in--hadn't an idea of it; but I think it's a way out, and a good one. I am very lonely sometimes; I should be another man if I had a girl to look after, and an old fogy would perhaps delight in your girlhood more than a boy would know how to do. I think I'll run over to Dieppe for a few days instead of going to Chidhurst, and come and hear what you have to say to me when I return." "It will be just the same," she answered. "You don't know;" he shook her hand and hesitated, then stooped and kissed her forehead. "I have known your father all my life, and would do well by you," he said. He walked away from Great College Street muttering to himself. "Upon my life, I believe she's in love with Tom. I don't know what Hilda Lakeman will say to it all. I wonder if Hilda was lying? She generally is. Pretty fool I've made of myself, for I don't believe the girl will ever look at me. I wish she would. I suppose now she'll go and tell Tom; that'll be the next thing, and he will laugh at me. Best thing I can do is to tell him myself, and have done with it. Here! Hi!" and he stopped a hansom. "Stratton Street." He got in rather slowly. "I'm blest if there isn't a twinge of gout in my foot now--just to remind me that I'm an ass, I suppose." He met Tom coming out of his house. "Just wanted to see you for a minute--can you come back?" "All right; come along," and Tom led the way into the house. "Look here, my dear boy, I came to speak to you about Margaret Vincent. You know she wrote to me?" "Yes, of course." "Well, it seems to me sheer idiotcy--worse, almost a crime--that Vincent's girl should be here alone in lodgings and apparently stark, staring mad about the stage." "I have told her so--but I am looking after her." "Which only makes matters worse; besides, the Lakemans won't like it." "It doesn't matter to them." "Well, but I suppose you are going to marry Lena some day?" "I never dreamed of it." "Never dreamed of it?" Sir George repeated, looking at him incredulously, and then with a glimmering of common-sense it occurred to him not to repeat Mrs. Lakeman's confidence. "But you are going to them in Scotland?" "I ought. Lena's very ill, I fear, and Mrs. Lakeman telegraphs to me every day to go and cheer them up."