"Well, then," says Tedcastle, who has been bred in the belief that a woman without her maid is as lost as a babe without its mother, "why, then, I suppose, you would borrow one from your nearest neighbor. Cecil Stafford would lend you hers. I know my sisters were only allowed one maid between each two; and when they spent the autumn in different houses they used to toss up which should have her." "What does a maid do for one, I wonder?" muses independent Molly. "I should fancy you could better answer that than I." "No,--because I never had one." "Well, neither had I," says Luttrell; at which they both laugh. "I am afraid," says Molly, in a rather dispirited tone, "I shall feel rather strange at Herst. I wish you could manage to be there the very day I arrive,--could you, Teddy? I would not be so lonely if I knew for certain you would be on the spot to welcome me. It is horrible going there for--that is--to be inspected." "I will surely be there a day or two after, but I doubt if I could be there on the twenty-seventh. You may trust me to do my best." "I suppose it is--a very grand place," questions Molly, growing more and more depressed, "with dinner-parties every day, and butlers, and footmen, and all the rest of it? And I shall be there, a stranger, with no one to care whether I enjoy myself or not." "You forget me," says Luttrell, quietly. "True," returns she, brightening; "and whenever you see me sitting by myself, Teddy, you are to come over to me, no matter how engaged you may be, and sit down beside me. If I have any one else with me, of course you need not mind it." "I see." Rather dryly. "Two is company, three is trumpery." "Have I vexed you? How foolish you are! Why, if you are jealous in imagination, how will it be in reality? There will be many men at Herst; and perhaps--who knows----" "What?" "I may fall in love with some of them." "Very likely." With studied coolness. "Philip Shadwell, for instance?" "It may be." "Or your Mr. Potts?" "There is no accounting for tastes." "Or any one else that may happen to please me?" "I see nothing to prevent it." "And what then?" "Why, then you will forget me, and like him,--until you like some one else better." "Now, if I were a dignified young lady," says Molly, "I should feel insulted; but, being only Molly Bawn, I don't. I forgive you; and I won't fall in love with any one; so you may take that thunder-cloud off your brow as soon as it may please your royal highness." "What do you gain by making me unhappy?" asks he, impetuously seizing the hand she has extended to him with all the air of an offended but gracious queen. "Everything." Laughing. "I delight in teasing you, you look so deliciously miserable all through; it is never time thrown away upon you. Now, if you could only manage to laugh at my sallies or tease me back again, I dare say I should give in in a week and let you rest in peace ever after. Why don't you?"