"Yes," I said, trying to speak with careless ease; "one Lord gone, but there are others. Don't be too hard upon Strathay, though. He's not so bad. His estates are not heavily encumbered, and he's as likely now to wed a music hall singer as a daughter of the Beerage. Perhaps such a marriage as he might have offered is not the best in life, but it is something that women who love their daughters as well as you love yours are glad to arrange for them. I should have made Strathay a very decent wife--" But at the word I stopped; something in the sound of it shattered my cool philosophy. "Of course, of course," Uncle assented. Then after a pause he went on, hesitatingly:-- "Nelly, these are not matters for a man to discuss with you. Why don't you run in and talk with your aunt?" I hadn't the least intention of calling, but I answered him according to his folly. "I must, some time; but I'm so worried--" "Ah, yes; those debts. Could you not, if you are determined not to come home to us, seek less expensive apartments? You know that for any wants in reason your aunt and I--" "I--I can't, just yet," I faltered, with a dreary vision before my eyes of such a boarding house as that from which Kitty rescued me. "Very well, Nelly, but think about it; you will see that to go on as you are doing would be only throwing money into a bottomless pit. But bring me your bills to-morrow; I must have facts and figures, if we are to straighten your affairs. Now--you need money--" He was fumbling for his check book. Badly as I needed help, instinctively I cried:-- "Oh, no; not that!" "Quite sure? It is the situation that troubles you and not the butcher, the baker--" "Quite sure." "I desist. But sleep on what I have said. Remember that I am in your father's place, that I--your aunt and I--are very anxious about you." He took my hand, seeming as perplexed as I am myself. He looked affectionate enough, but so futile. So I came away heartsick. It's useless to argue with Judge Baker. He's a plebeian from his thick shoe soles to his thin hair; but he's honest. And yet--if he had been less ponderously precise--he might have said: "Why, really, I don't exactly know. Mr. Winship is a well-to-do man. It has been years since I knew, but I can ascertain and--" Or he might just have told the plain truth--that Father has a large Western farm. Englishmen think all Western folks are rich. Why, I believe Meg Van Dam would dower me if I were to marry Strathay. I could make it worth her while. It wouldn't be the first arrangement of that sort in New York, either. If only Strathay had seen me once more, no power on earth could have prevented an avowal; and marriage with a peer of England would have given me a station befitting my beauty. But perhaps it's not too late. Strathay may not heed his cousin. If he comes wooing again, I shall not be so silly as I was the last time. Strange that I have not seen him. Can he have gone already?