"Of course it would," he replied: "Flora ought to have a good tight rein over her. What's this you are doing, Ethel? The Friar's Keep! Why, what a curious coincidence! Mary Ursula was filling in just the same thing last night." "Was she, papa? It makes a nice sketch." "You don't draw as well as Mary Ursula does, Ethel." "I do nothing as well as she does, papa. I don't think anybody does." "What are those figures in the foreground?" "I meant them for two of the Grey Sisters. Their cloaks are not finished yet." "Oh," said Mr. Castlemaine, rather shortly. "And that's a group of fishermen, I see: much the more sensible people of the two." "What did Mary Ursula say last night, papa?" "Say? Nothing particular. She sent her love to Ethel." "Did she dine at table?" "Why, of course not, child. Miss Mountsorrel spent the evening with her." "And, papa," whispered Ethel, with a pretty little laugh and blush, "is it fixed yet?" "Is what fixed?" "The wedding-day." "I don't think so--or you would have heard of it. I expect she will ask you to be her bridesmaid." CHAPTER III. AT THE DOLPHIN INN. The Dolphin Inn, as already said, stood in the angle between the village street and the high road that branched off from the street to the open country. It faced the road, standing, like most of the dwellings in Greylands, somewhat back from it. A substantial, low-roofed house, painted yellow, with a flaming sign-board in front, bearing a dolphin with various hues and colours, and two low bow-windows on either side the door. Beyond lay a yard with out-houses and stables, and there was some good land behind. Along the wall, underneath the parlour windows and on either side of the entrance door, ran a bench on which wayfarers might sit; at right angles with it, near the yard, was a pump with a horse-trough beside it. Upon a pinch, the inn could supply a pair of post-horses: but they were seldom called for, as Stilborough was so near. It was the only inn of any kind at Greylands, and was frequented by the fishermen, as well as occasionally by more important guests. The landlord was John Bent. The place was his own, and had been his father's before him. He was considered to be a "warm" man; to be able to live at his ease, irrespective of custom. John Bent was independent in manner and speech, except to his wife. Mrs. Bent, a thrifty, bustling, talkative woman, had taken John's independence out of him at first setting off, so far as she was concerned; but they got on very well together. To Mr. Castlemaine especially John was given to show independence. They were civil to each other, but there was no love lost between them. Mr. Castlemaine would have liked to purchase the Dolphin and the land pertaining to it: he had made more than one strong overture to do so, which John had resisted and resented. The landlord, too, had taken up an idea that Mr. Castlemaine did not encourage the sojourn of strangers at the inn; but had done his best