“I don’t see what your father can have to say agin Mr. Wynne?” said Holt stoutly. “He is a gentleman. The king himself is no more.” “Ah, yes; but he has no money,” sighed Madeline. “Maybe he has brains; and them does just as well. Don’t let your father come between you--you know the Bible says, ‘As----’” “Mr. Holt!” she exclaimed, flushing indignantly, “do you think I would ever desert Laurence? No, not for fifty fathers. No, not if my father came all the way from London on his knees, would I ever give up Laurence and baby, or forget them for one single hour!” “Nay, I’m sure you wouldn’t, excuse me, ma’am. But, you see, your father’s very rich, and you are just wonderful pretty, and when the old gent--meaning no offence--has you living in a kind of palace, with servants, and carriages and ’osses, and tricked out in dress and jewels, and every one pushing and jostling one another to tell you what a grand and beautiful lady you be--why, maybe, _then_ you won’t be so keen for coming back; you know it would be only human nature--at least,” coolly correcting himself--“woman’s natur.” “Well, Mr. Holt,” she returned rather stiffly, “time will tell. I cannot say more than that,” unintentionally quoting from Mrs. Kane. “I know myself that I shall come back, and soon. Remember,” stopping when she had jumped down, and holding his bony hand tightly in both of hers, “remember,” she repeated, looking up into his honest rugged face, with dim and wistful eyes, “I leave them in your charge. Don’t let Laurence overtire himself--don’t let him walk too far. Don’t let the baby have a halfpenny to play with again--or the toasting-fork. And, oh, I must go! Remember, above all, that I shall soon return.” Exit Miss West, running to take her ticket and claim her luggage; and Farmer Holt, fearing the effect of the train, for the first time, on his rampant colt, prudently turned his head back towards the cool green lanes without any dangerous delay. CHAPTER XII. “SHE WILL DO!” Madeline, having arrived in London, drove direct to No. 2, and spent one more night under Mrs. Kane’s roof, where she was received with open arms, and proudly shown a letter marked, “Private and confidential,” and signed by the neat and respectable signature of “Letitia Harper.”