What could the guardian do more? There was no telling what might happen in seven years; before seven years were over, please God, she would be married, and trust her husband to guard against the dividing of the fortune! It would be better, Mr. Chervil concluded, to put up with the loss of a few thousand pounds than to risk the cutting up of the whole property, and the alienation of a great part of it from poor Rainy’s race. Besides, the executor knew that to break the will would not be an easy matter. The codicil might be eccentric, but old Trevor was sane enough. He growled, but he wrote the check, and submitted to everything, though with an ill grace. Lady Randolph offered luncheon to the gentleman from the city, and was pointedly ceremonious, though civil. “Miss Trevor is rather too young to have such lengthened conferences with gentlemen,” she said, “though I have no doubt, Mr. Chervil, I can trust you.” “Trust me, my lady! Why, I am a man with a family!” cried the astonished executor. “I have daughters as old as Miss Lucy.” He was confused when Sir Tom’s large laugh (for Sir Tom was here again, much amused with the little drama, and almost making his aunt angry by the devotion with which he carried out her scheme) showed him the folly of this little speech, and added awkwardly, “I don’t suppose she will come to any harm in your hand, but she’s a wild madcap, though she looks so quiet, and as obstinate--” “Are you all that?” Sir Thomas said, looking at Lucy with the laugh still in his eyes. “You hide it under a wonderfully innocent exterior. It is the lion in lamb’s clothing this time. I think you must require my help, aunt, to manage this dangerous young lady.” “Oh, I can dispense with your help,” Lady Randolph said, with a little flush of irritation. Decidedly things were going too fast and too far; under the very nose of the executor, too, who, no doubt, kept a most keen outlook upon all who surrounded his precious ward. “I am not afraid of Lucy, so long as she is let alone and left to the occupations suitable to her age.” And with this her ladyship rose from the table, and with some impatience bade her young companion get ready for their drive; though, as everybody could see, even through the closed blinds which kept the dim dining-room cool, it was hours too early for any drive. “Just, a word to you, Sir Thomas, if you’ll permit me,” Mr. Chervil said. “That dangerous young lady, as you call her, will run through every penny she has, if she is allowed to have her own way. If you would be so kind as to _not_ encourage her it would be real friendship, though she mightn’t think so. But as long as any one backs her up--”