Clarice laughed again, and drew him silently to a sofa, whereon they sat hand in hand, after the delightfully foolish manner of lovers. Ackworth was certainly a Swain of whom any girl might have been proud. He was not the desperately good-looking god of the Family Herald, but was comely enough in his youth and strength to pass in a crowd. His closely clipped hair was fair, as was his moustache. He had a bronzed face and a pair of merry blue eyes, and was as well set up as military training and constant out-of-door exercise could make him. Finally, he had a well-groomed, clean look, and anyone could see that he was a thoroughly wholesome, honourable gentleman. Clarice, of course, deemed him to be perfection, which he was not; but he had more virtues than faults, and assuredly was masterful enough to satisfy the most exacting woman. As a Greek god, Anthony Ackworth was a failure; as a man to trust and love he came off very well. That he was not superlatively clever, did not lower Clarice's appreciation of his character. "Well?" asked Anthony, unoriginally, "how are things?" "All wrong," replied Clarice, quickly. "I have been most anxious to see you, dear. I want help." "I should think you were clever enough to do without any help I could give you," said Ackworth, admiringly, for he looked upon Miss Baird as a Queen Elizabeth-cum-Catherine-George Eliot kind of woman. "Is Mr. Horran any better?" "No--that is, he's asleep." "He was asleep last time I was here." "Yes. He then slept for ten hours and woke up to drop asleep again for a longer period." "What a dormouse sort of existence. Is it that which worries you?" "No. Uncle Henry is no better and no worse than he ever was. I have several things to worry me. Ferdy is engaged to Prudence Clarke." "Lucky man. She's a pretty girl," said Anthony; "that shouldn't worry you, dearest. You wished to have her for a sister-in-law." "Yes, but there's Sarah Dumps." "What a name. Who is Sarah Dumps?" "Butterfly." "Butterfly what?" "You know. She dances and sings under the name of--" "Oh!" Anthony was suddenly enlightened. "I remember. I saw a dancer called Butterfly at the Mascot Music-hall. She's pretty, but not the kind of woman I admire." "I am afraid Ferdy does," sighed Clarice. "What. You don't mean to say--" "Yes, I do. Listen to what Mrs. Rebson says." And Clarice related the conversation with the old housekeeper. "And you see," ended Miss Baird, anxiously, "if Sarah Dumps has come back, and Ferdy has gone to see her so immediately, I am afraid he is entangled with her." Ackworth shook his head. "No, my dear," he said, very decidedly, "Ferdy is not clever, but, at least, he is a gentleman. No man would propose to one woman, and then immediately visit another old flame. I don't believe there is anything in the matter. Besides, Butterfly--to give her the name she is best known by--is ambitious of a richer husband than your brother, to say nothing of her wish for a title."