Suppose he forbade her ever to speak to George Gordon or Gantry Bill again? Still, the shilling must be got back to George Gordon that night, and it was already seven o’clock, time for her to lay dinner. She ran up to Mr. Wycherly’s study, and found him sitting in his arm-chair by the window reading Horace. She went and stood before his chair, clasped her hands behind her, and announced: "I broke a whole basketful of eggs, sir, this afternoon. They cost a shilling." "Do you think," said Mr. Wycherly, smiling, "that the domestic exchequer will stand such a heavy drain upon it?" "But that’s not all," she continued breathlessly. "He picked me up, and as I hadn’t another shilling he paid for the eggs, and I’ve spent all my money, and can’t pay him back till June. Will you lend me the money to pay him?" Mr. Wycherly no longer lounged in his chair. He sat up very straight, but he spoke gently as usual, saying: "Do you mind explaining to me who ’he’ is, and why you should need to be picked up?" "Gantry Bill, that’s his dog, bounced at me from behind; we’re great friends and he was glad to see me, and I was thinking deeply, and he knocked me over and the eggs flew all about and made a great mess, so he helped me up and we went together to buy more eggs, and he carried them home for me." "Gantry Bill, as you call him," Mr. Wycherly said, his eyes twinkling, "seems a very remarkable dog. First, he knocks you down, then he picks you up and gives you a shilling to buy eggs, which he politely carries home for you. Is it this intelligent animal that you propose to repay?" "No," said Jane-Anne, blushing hotly; "it’s the intelligent animal’s master. He lives just opposite. He’s at New College." "And is it he who is such a great friend of yours?" Mr. Wycherly asked, as though it were the most natural conclusion possible. "No," said Jane-Anne, rosier than ever; "I never spoke to him before, though I knew him by sight. He’s rather nice," she added; "his name is George Gordon, but he’s no relation to dear Lord Byron—and he doesn’t seem a bit sorry. May I take the shilling over?" "I think," said Mr. Wycherly, "that perhaps it would be better if I took him the shilling myself. After all, you know, the eggs were for the house, and therefore my affair." "Oh, would you?" cried Jane-Anne. "That is perfectly lovely of you, and then you’ll see him, and see if you like him." "Exactly," said Mr. Wycherly, "that’s why I want to go." "You will give it back to-night, won’t you?" she begged. "Directly after dinner; I hope he will be at home." "Oh, he’s sure to be at home," she said simply. "He generally sings then; I hear him while I’m working. He sings ’Maid of Athens’ most beautifully." "Does he indeed?" said Mr. Wycherly. *CHAPTER XIX* *THE STARLING FLIES AWAY*