"We were speaking of your being in the city at dinner," she said presently; "but we thought your business so important we should hardly have the pleasure of seeing you." "Important is merely a relative term," he answered. "I could not deny myself the pleasure of calling. I see Mr. Plant at Montfield so seldom, that I am glad of any excuse to get sight of him." "You surely need no excuse for calling," that gentleman said graciously. "I am always glad to see you." "But Mr. Putnam must have come to the city to see friends who are so much more interesting," Patty remarked, with her most dazzling smile, "that we are indeed flattered at his remembrance." The girl scarcely knew herself, so strange and unnatural was the part she was playing. A spell seemed to constrain her to go on wounding her lover, even though the blow rebounded upon herself. Inwardly she was saying to herself, "How dare he come from pursuing that woman, and call on me?" She nerved herself to the task; and, under a show of the utmost cordiality, she lashed Tom Putnam with all the scorn and sarcasm of which she was mistress. He received with dignity her attacks, or parried them adroitly; but he did not make his call a long one. "God forgive us!" Mr. Plant said as soon as the lawyer had taken leave. "What had that poor devil done, Patty, that you baited him so? And he took it like a hero. If he didn't deserve it, you ought to be bastinadoed; and, if he did, he's brazen-faced enough. Anyway he's plucky. You treated him like a dog." The company were decidedly out of spirits. Flossy was angry with her cousin's treatment of Putnam, and Burleigh was confused and uncomfortable by the state of the mental atmosphere. As for Mr. Plant, he was annoyed at his niece, at Mr. Blood, at the disturbances which hindered the usual slow and placid digestion of his dinner. He had resolutely avoided giving Burleigh an opportunity of seeing him alone; and now the poor suitor, lacking courage to ask for an interview, found himself obliged to speak out, or leave his errand undone. "Mr. Plant," he blurted out after a period of perfect silence, in which he had been screwing his courage to the sticking-point, "I want to marry your daughter." His host started as if a bomb had dropped at his feet. "I like your impudence," he said. "Sir?" stammered poor Burleigh, starting to his feet. "Who are you?" Mr. Plant continued, his impatience finding vent at last, and pouring upon the head of the bewildered suitor. "Does Flossy look as if she'd make a good farmer's wife? Can you give her any thing to compensate for what she must sacrifice in marrying so far outside her circle? I repeat, I like your impudence!" "I know she would be sacrificing," began Burleigh; but the irate father, whose annoyance had been increasing all day, interrupted.