"Lucy," he said, "are you not going to tell me anything? I know you have got the letter, but you won't look at me, or speak a word." "Oh, Jock, how silly! why shouldn't I look at you? but I have so many things to do, and baby--I am sure I heard baby cry." "He is no more crying than I am. I saw him, and he was as jolly as possible. I want awfully to know about the Churchills, and what MTutor says." "Jock, I think Mr. Derwentwater is rather grand in his writing. It looks as if he thought a great deal of himself." "No, he doesn't," said Jock, hotly, "not half enough. He's the best man we've got, and yet he can't see it. You needn't give me any information about MTutor," added the young gentleman, "for naturally I know all that much better than you. But I want to know about the Churchills. Lucy, is it all right?" Lucy gave a little shiver though she was in front of the fire. She said, reluctantly, "I think they seem very nice people, Jock." "I know they are," said Jock, exultantly. "Churchill in college is the nicest fellow I know. He read such a paper at the Poetical Society. It was on the Method of Sophocles; but of course you would not understand that." "No, dear," said Lucy, mildly; and again she murmured something about the baby crying, "I think indeed, Jock, I must go." "Just a moment," said the boy, "Now you are satisfied couldn't we drive into Farafield to-morrow and settle about it? I want to go with you, you and I together, and if old Rushton makes a row you can just call me." "But I can't leave Lady Randolph, Jock," cried Lucy, driven to her wits' end. "It would be unkind to leave her, and a few days cannot do much harm. When she has gone away----" "I shall be back at school. Let Sir Tom take her out for once. He might as well drive her in his new phaeton that he is so proud of. If it is fine she'll like that, and we can say we have some business." "Oh! Jock, don't press me so; a few days can't make much difference." "Lucy," said Jock, sternly, "do you think it makes no difference to keep a set of good people unhappy, just to save you a little trouble? I thought you had more heart than that." "Oh, let me go, Jock; let me go--that is little Tom, and he wants me," Lucy cried. She had no answer to make him--the only thing she could do was to fly. CHAPTER XV. ON BUSINESS.