"You seem to be rather afraid of Hannah," he said, for it simply never occurred to him that there should be any question of love-making between Mr. Garratt and Hannah. Margaret was such a nice girl, he thought; it was a pity she should flirt, for perhaps, after all, it was only a flirtation with a local house-agent; it put her on another level altogether from the girl he had known in London. And so talk was not very easy between them again, since each felt a little indignant with the other. "Are you going to be here all the summer?" he asked, when they returned to the garden. "I suppose so," she answered, "unless I go to London. I want to do that more than anything in the world." "A romantic elopement with the gentleman we have been discussing?" "Oh, how can you! He is nothing to me; he knows that--it is Hannah." She looked downright beautiful when the color came to her face, he thought, and wished Mr. Garratt at the bottom of the sea. "When is your father coming back?" he asked, and his tone was constrained. "We don't know till we get his letter," she said, impatiently; something was wrong with this interview, and it seemed impossible to set it right. "You must tell the Lakemans when they turn up; then I shall hear." Tea was ready when they returned--a generous tea, set out as usual in the living-room. Tom took his place next to Mrs. Vincent and talked to her gayly, while his eye wandered over the table with the satisfaction of a school-boy. Margaret remembered how he had talked of going into the House of Commons; but he didn't look a bit like a politician, she thought, he was so splendidly young, and he and she had understood each other so well in London. But now he seemed to be bound hand and foot to the Lakemans, and he thought she cared for that horrid Mr. Garratt. "I like big tea and jam," he said. "Do you ever come up to London, Mrs. Vincent?" "No," she answered; "but sometimes I have thought that I should like to go with Margaret while her father is away." "Did you think that, mother dear?" Margaret asked, in surprise. "Better come and stay with me. I could take you both in." Hannah was pouring out the tea, grasping the teapot with a firm hand, putting it down with determination on the tray when the cups were filled. "Mother is better where she is," she said, without looking up. "Towsey, there is no slop-basin on the table. I hold with staying at home, Mr. Carringford, though I've sometimes thought I'd like to go up myself for the May meetings." "May meetings? Of course--I know. I thought you meant races at first--but it is Exeter Hall you are thinking of? I'm afraid Mr. and Miss Vincent didn't go there when they were in town." "I'm afraid not, Mr. Carringford." "Good Lord, what an ogress!" he thought. "They had a pretty good time, though," he said, aloud.