"Cross, my darling? not a bit," said Joe, patting her hand again. "You shan't disgrace the man as has you, my dear; that you shan't. Why, you're fit to be a little queen, you are." Daisy gave him a hasty kiss, and ran off, while Joe proceeded to refill his pipe. "Cross indeed! I should just think I hadn't," he exclaimed--"only with the women. Well, they'll come round." But if Joe Banks had stood on the hill-side a couple of hours earlier, just by the spot where Tom Podmore had sat on the day of the vicar's arrival, he would perhaps have viewed the matter in a different light, for--of course by accident--Daisy had there encountered Richard Glaire, evidently not for the first time since the night when they were interrupted by Tom in the lane. It was plain that any offence Richard had given on the night in question had long been condoned, and that at every meeting he was gaining a stronger mastery over the girl's heart. "Then you will, Daisy, won't you?" he whispered to her. "No, no, Dick dear. Don't ask me. Let me tell father all about it." "What?" he cried. "Let me tell father all about it, and I'm sure he'll be pleased." "My dear little Daisy, how well you are named," he cried, playfully; and as he looked lovingly down upon her, the foolish girl began to compare him with the lover of her mother's choice--a man who was nearly always blackened with his labours, and heavy and rough spoken, while here was Richard Glaire professing that he worshipped her, and looking, in her eyes, so handsome in his fashionably-cut blue coat with the rosebud in the button-hole, and wearing patent leather boots as tight as the lemon gloves upon his well-formed hands. "I can't help my name," she said, coquettishly. "I wouldn't have it changed for the world, my little pet," he whispered, playing with her dimpled chin; "only you are as fresh as a daisy." "What do you mean, Dick?" she said, nestling to him. "Why you are so young and innocent. Look here, my darling: don't you see how I'm placed? My mother wants me to marry Eve." "But you don't really, really, really, care the least little bit for her, do you, Mr Richard?" "`Mr Richard!'" reproachfully. "Dear Dick, then," she whispered, colouring up, and glancing fondly at him, half ashamed though the while at her boldness. "Of course I don't love her. Haven't I sworn a hundred times that I love only you, and that I want you to be my darling little wife?" "Yes, yes," said the girl, softly. "Well, then, my darling, if you go and tell your father, the first thing he'll do will be to go and tell my mother, and then there'll be no end of a row." "But she loves you very much, Dick." "Worships me," said Dick, complacently. "Of course," said the girl, softly; and her foolish little eyes seemed to say, "She couldn't help it," while she continued, "and she'd let you do as you like, Dick." "Well, but you see the devil of it is, Daisy, that I promised her I wouldn't see you any more."