"And now, my dear, I should like you to go home and talk things over with your people, and then you can write me a line saying whether you wish to come to us. We must not decide things finally until your father gives his consent. He will know our names." And, as Waveney seemed puzzled at this, "When we were young he visited at our house. Oh, not here; we lived in Surrey then." "But when shall you want me," asked Waveney, anxiously. "Oh, I am sure father will give his consent. He is dreadfully unhappy at the idea of our working, but he knows it must be done." "Still you must consult him," returned Althea, gently, and her manner was a little stately. "As for my wanting you, I shall be content if you could come to me in about ten days. Now I hear the carriage coming round. Good-bye. I think I will add _au revoir_;" and then she shook hands very cordially, and the next moment Doreen joined them. There was very little conversation during the drive back. Miss Harford was busy with her letters and note-book, and Waveney leaned back on the cushions, and thought over her talk with Althea. "How strange that father should have known them!" she said to herself. "He often talks of his old friends, but he has never mentioned their name. Harford--no, I am sure I never heard it until Miss Warburton spoke of them. If I go anywhere it shall be to the Red House--I have made up my mind to that. I like both of them--they are different somehow from other people; but I like Queen Bess far the best." CHAPTER VII. A HUMOURIST AND AN IDEALIST. "The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but, I think, now 'tis not to be found." _Love's Labour's Lost._ "A merrier man, Within the limits of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal." _Act II._ While Waveney was doing her very best to make a favourable impression on the Misses Harford, an interview of a far different character was taking place at Number Ten, Cleveland Terrace. Mollie, who was conscientious and strictly truthful, having been taught from childhood to abhor the very whitest of white lies, was trying laboriously to carry out a certain programme drawn up by Waveney. She was not to cry or to think of anything disagreeable, and she was only to look at the clock twice in an hour, and there was no need for her either to be always standing on the balcony and straining her eyes after every passer-by. It was sheer waste of time, and it would be far better to finish one of her pretty menu-cards; and Mollie, who was docile and tractable, had agreed to this. "It shall have a spray of golden brown chrysanthemums," she said, quite cheerfully; and when Waveney left the house she arranged her painting-table and selected the flowers from Corporal Mark's nosegay. But, alas! "The best-laid schemes of mice and men Gang aft agley."