"I have a month's leave," Roland informs us presently. "Do you think in that time we could polish it off--courtship, proposal, and wedding? Though," reflectively, "that would be a pity, as by puffing off the marriage for a little while I might then screw another month out of the old boy." "Just so," I answer, approvingly. "He is such a desirable young man in every way," says mother, _a propos_ of Mr. Carrington; "so steady, well-tempered, and his house is really beautiful. You know it, Roland--Strangemore--seven miles from this?" "I think it gloomy," Dora says, quietly. "When I--if I were to--that is---" "What a charming virtue is modesty!" I exclaim, _sotto voce_. "Go on, Dora," says Roland, in an encouraging tone. "When you marry Mr. Carrington, what will you do then?" "Of course I don't see the smallest prospect of it," murmurs Dora, with downcast eyes; "but if I were to become mistress of Strangemore I would throw more light into all the rooms; I would open up windows everywhere and take down those heavy pillars." "Then you would ruin it," I cry indignantly; "its ancient appearance is its chief charm. You would make it a mere modern dwelling-house; and the pillars I think magnificent." "_I_ don't," says dear Dora, immovably; "and if ever I get the chance I will certainly remove them." "You won't get the chance, then; you need not think it. Mr. Carrington has not the smallest idea of marrying you," exclaims Billy, whose Latin and Greek have evidently disagreed with him. "It is a pity your tutor cannot teach you to be a gentleman," retorts Dora, casting a withering glance at our youngest born. "Our dear William's temper appears slightly ruffled," remarks Roland, smoothly. "Evidently the gentleman of the name of Caldwood was lavish with his birch this morning. Come with me, Phyllis: I want to visit the stables." I follow him gladly; and Billy joining us, with a grim countenance, we sally forth, leaving Dora to pour her griefs into mother's gentle bosom. CHAPTER VII FRIDAY brings Mr. Carrington, who is specially agreeable, and devotes himself a good deal to Roland. There is a considerable amount of talk about shooting, hunting, and so forth, and we can all see that Roly is favorably impressed. Dora's behavior is perfect--her modesty and virtuous bashfulness apparent. Our visitor rather affects her society than otherwise, but beyond listening to her admiringly when she speaks, shows no marked attention. In the country a visit is indeed a visitation, and several hours elapse before he takes his departure. Once finding myself alone with him in the conservatory, I bestow upon him my promised picture, which he receives with open gratitude and consigns to his pocket as he hears footsteps approaching.