"I'm sorry, father, but this afternoon it really couldn't be helped. I couldn't be rude to the poor man when he came with me. He seemed to take it for granted he should; Miss Gallup suggested it. I daresay he didn't want to come at all. But they both meant it kindly--what could I do?" "What you can do, and what you must do, is to obey my orders. I will not have you walk anywhere in company with that bounder----" "He isn't a bounder, father. You're wrong there; whatever he may be he isn't that." Mr Ffolliot turned slowly and entered the drive. Mary followed, and in silence they walked up to the house. He looked at his tall daughter from time to time. She held her head very high and her expression was rebellious. She really was an extremely handsome girl, and, in spite of his intense annoyance, Mr Ffolliot felt gratification in this fact. At the hall door he paused. "I must ask you to remember, Mary, that you are no longer a child, that your actions now can evoke both comment and criticism, and I must ask you to confine your friendships to your own class." "I shall never be able to do that," Mary answered firmly; "I love the village people far too much." "That is a wholly different matter, and you know very well that I have always been the first to rejoice in the very friendly relations between us and--er--my good tenants. This Gallup person is not one of them. There is not the smallest necessity to know him, and what's more, I decline to know him. Do you understand?" "No, father, I don't. I can't promise to cut Mr Gallup or be rude to him if I happen to meet him; he has done nothing to deserve it. You don't ask us to cut that odious Rabbich boy, who _is_ a bounder, if you like." "I know nothing about the Rabbich boy, as you call him. If he is what you say, I should certainly advise you to drop his acquaintance; but I must and do insist that you shall not further cultivate the acquaintance of this young Gallup." "He's going back to London to-morrow afternoon, father. What _is_ there to worry about?" Mr Ffolliot sighed. "I shall be glad," he exclaimed, "when your mother returns." "So will everybody," said Mary. CHAPTER XX THE GRANTLY STRAIN Easter, that year, fell in the second week of April, and both Grantly and the twins were home for it. Mrs Ffolliot was back too. The Riviera had done wonders for her, and she returned beautiful and gay, and immensely glad to have her children round her once more.