The lawyer made no comment at the moment, but went on eating his toast. But presently he looked up. “What is the matter, Kitty?” he said, not unkindly. Her face burning, she peered again quite unnecessarily into the teapot. Then she said hurriedly, “I have something I think I ought to tell you, father. Dr. Gregg has asked me to marry him!” “The deuce he has!” Mr. Bonamy answered in unmistakable surprise. For a moment he did not know what to say, or how to feel about it. If any one had informed the Claversham people that the lawyer’s moroseness was not natural to the man, but the product of many slights, the informant would have lost his pains. Yet in a great measure this was so; and first among the things which of late years had exercised Mr. Bonamy a keen anxiety for his daughters’ happiness had place. He had never made any move toward procuring them the society of their equals; nay, he had done many things in his pride calculated rather to prolong their exclusion. Yet all the time he had bitterly resented it, and had spent many a wakeful night in pondering gloomily over the dull lives to which they were condemned. Now—strange that he had never thought of it before—as far as Kate was concerned, he saw a way of escape opening. Gregg had a fair practice, some private means, a good house, a tolerable position in the town. In a word, he was perfectly eligible. Yet Mr. Bonamy was not altogether pleased. He had no fastidious objection to the doctor. It did not occur to him that the doctor was not a gentleman. But he did know that he did not like him. So the lawyer, after one exclamation of surprise, was for a moment silent. Then he asked, “Well Kate, and what did you say?” “I said No,” Kate answered in a low voice. “He is a well-to-do man,” Mr. Bonamy said, slowly stirring his tea. “Not that you need think of that only. But you are not likely to know many people who could make you more comfortable. I believe he is skilful in his profession. It is a chance, girl, not to be lightly thrown away.” “I could not—I could not marry him,” Kate stammered, her agitation now very apparent. “I do not like him. You would not have me——” “I would not have you marry any one you do not like!” Mr. Bonamy replied, almost sternly. “But are you sure that you know your own mind?” “Quite,” Kate said, with a shudder. “Hum! Well, well; there is no more to be said, then,” he answered. “Don’t cry, girl.” Kate managed to obey him. And in a moment, bravely steadying her voice, she asked, “What is this about Mr. Lindo, father? I heard that he had turned the sheep out of the churchyard.” The lawyer thought she asked the question in order to change the subject; and he answered briskly, with less reserve perhaps than he might have exercised at another time. “It is quite true,” he said. “He is making a fool of himself, as I expected. You cannot put old heads on young shoulders. However, what has happened has convinced me of one thing.”