“I promise that. That wouldn’t be playing the game,” he admitted. “I’d be very sorry if they had anything to do with my future, Lydia. You might as well try to carve butter, or a turnip, into an enduring thing. I shall treat your brother and his wife the same as I’ve always treated them. For the present, we’ll just go on as we’re going, please—good friends, and nothing more. I’ve a right to ask that.” “I wish you’d take ‘no’ for an answer, however.” “There’s nothing final about anything in this world except death, my dear. While she’s alive it’s never too late for a woman to change her mind. And if you did, it would be very unfortunate if I was in such a position I couldn’t listen to you. You may ask me to marry you, yet, Lydia—if Providence so wills it—though not leap year, I believe.” She laughed, and such was his amiability that he saw her all the way home. CHAPTER XXII A TEST FOR JORDAN KELLOCK Philander Knox combined with his level temper and tolerant philosophy an element of shrewdness which those with whom his lot was now cast failed to appreciate. He was no intriguer for choice, nor might he be called inquisitive; but if the occasion demanded it and his own interests were involved, Philander found himself quite prepared to employ his latent gifts. He was cunning, with that peculiar sort of craft that often belongs to expansive and genial natures; he could, in fact, be exceedingly sly and even unscrupulous within certain limits. Now the need for active operations on his own behalf began to be obvious to Mr. Knox. Finding that she cared for him, he had not the smallest intention of losing Lydia. He felt her argument against matrimony beneath serious consideration; but he knew that to her the reasons for his rejection were grave and sufficient, and he did not propose any counter-attack on the front of his reverse. He preferred a more circuitous response. He devoted a great deal of time to the subject and then took an occasion to see Medora. That he might do so, he would spend his leisure by the river and smoke his pipe there out of working hours. For some time he failed; but then came a day when he saw her returning to “The Waterman’s Arms” from the village and greeted her. Always glad to hear a kindly voice and aware that Knox had become a friend of her family, Medora smiled upon the vatman. He appeared gloomy, however, and their conversation began by his confessing his private tribulations. “You’ve got a heart,” he said, “and you are one of the brave sort that stand up to life and go through with a thing like a good plucked one, even though you know you’ve made a mistake. Well, such show sympathy for their neighbours, Medora, so I’m sure you’ll be sorry to hear I’ve had a great disappointment.” The other guessed what it was. “Mother won’t marry you!”