“Better a great deal,” said Horace seriously,--“better, a thousand times, go to the uttermost ends of the earth than sow such a storm as, if I’m not mistaken, you will reap the whirlwind of by and by.” “Well, but what _is_ in the wind?” asked Arthur, smiling at the faint idea that he had made a joke. “_What!_ Just read _that_, and you’ll soon see what a kick-up there’s likely to be.” “Prying old idiot!” exclaimed Arthur, tossing the letter of his future father on the table in disgust. “Why the ---- can’t he mind his own business, and be hanged to him!” “Perhaps he thinks that his daughter _is_ his business; but however that may be, the deed is done, the letter written, and the question now is how you can satisfy old Dab’s mind that all is right. I conclude that it _is_ all right, though I must say, Atty, it does, between you and me, look fishy, your going so very often over to John Beacham’s house.” “But I don’t go there so very often,” broke in Arthur eagerly; “it’s all a pack of cursed lies. How could I go to the Paddocks every day, as the old fool says I do, when I am twice a week, at least, at Fairleigh?” “Really! How pleasant for Sophy!” said Horace drily. “The worst of all this, though, is, that old Dub isn’t quite in his dotage yet, and may be sufficiently up in local geography to be aware that, by judicious management, it is possible to reach Fairleigh _viâ_ Updown Paddocks. Seriously now, Atty, can you in your sober senses think that the way you are going on is either right or prudent? Here you are, within a few weeks of marrying the girl you are engaged to--a nice girl, too, and you thought so yourself before you got spooney (nay, hear me out, for it _is_ true, and you know it is) on John Beacham’s wife,--here you are, I say, making her (I mean Sophy Duberly) miserable; and what is far worse--for girls soon get over that kind of thing--you are sowing the seeds of lasting wretchedness in another man’s house. You are--” “I--I am doing nothing,” broke in Arthur pettishly; adding, with brotherly familiarity, “What a fool you are!” “Thanks for the compliment; but I must be a still greater fool than I am not to foresee a _little_ of the mischief that is brewing there.” And he pointed over his shoulder in the direction of John Beacham’s home. “Why, even a child could see it,--even Katie, who for a girl is wonderfully unknowing in delicate matters of this kind and description--”