“I think with a horse and a dog of her own, some pretty frocks and a few young friends, Letty would be contented and happy,” she continued with composure. “Be very quiet with her at first, and allow the idea to dawn upon her by degrees. I mean, the idea of becoming your wife.” “How do you mean, dawn?” “Well, if I may make a suggestion, suppose you put up at Ridgefield and ride over to lunch occasionally; I have a quiet mare I can lend Letty--my husband will do gooseberry--do you see?” “I _see_,” he nodded, “all right. Yes I’ll take your tip. But look here, Mrs. Fenchurch, don’t let us have a long engagement, and all that sort of tomfoolery!” “No, no, certainly not; happy is the wooing that’s not long a-doing,” she quoted. “And now I’ll send Letty to talk to you, and go and see if they are bringing in tea.” Blagdon accepted the chaperon’s advice, assuring himself that Mrs. Fen was a clever woman, she should run _this_ part of the show; and accordingly, on various pretexts, he was to be seen at The Holt, two or three times a week. He was really fond of the little girl. What colouring! what hair! what lovely, innocent eyes! The magic quality of her youth and freshness was indescribably piquant to his jaded taste. It was a fact that Letty--ever sensitive to her surroundings--had in the present genial atmosphere unfolded like an exquisite flower. Her aunt was a puzzle, she was changed, and had become so thoughtful and indulgent, and had actually lent her a beautiful mare called ‘Mouse,’ and every day, wet or fine, she and her uncle openly and happily enjoyed long rides and long, confidential conversations. Occasionally these rides and conversations were shared by Mr. Blagdon, who would drop in to lunch and join the party. Exercise and April sunshine, brought smiles and radiance into the girl’s face, and Blagdon was astonished to discover how animated and gay Miss Glyn could be. How she and her uncle chaffed one another; how many jokes they shared. With respect to himself, her manner was guarded--not to say distant; a supreme indifference to his wealth and importance, enhanced her value tenfold. Supposing--chilling thought--that in spite of his boastful confidence, sweet seventeen were to refuse him? Pricked by this apprehension, Blagdon took, for him, infinite pains to please, and tuned his personality in a lower key, more in harmony with that of his companion; and exhibited the best side of his character--generosity, a love of animals, a certain brusque sincerity. He looked his best in the saddle, was a bold and admirable horseman, and Miss Glyn began to like him. He had made her a present of a fox terrier, and was so good-natured, and not at all grand _now_.