“Mr. Vicars,” cried Dolff, with the most comical expression of astonishment and dismay. He had thought, poor fellow, that he was “getting on very well” with Miss Summerhayes; he had felt himself able to speak to her as he never had been able to speak before. Yes, and she had understood him, agreed to what he had scarcely ventured to ask, and, though she had not flattered him (which was so much greater a compliment he had said to himself somewhat ruefully), had at least seemed willing to help him--to stand by him. Decidedly he had been getting on; but what in the world could she mean by this sudden _volte-face_. “Mr. Vicars!” he repeated, with amaze; then slowly dawning into understanding. “Old Vicars?” he said; “the old butler?” then Dolff paused to laugh. “You startled me so, I could not think what you meant. Do I put confidence in him? Well, I suppose so--that is--I can’t tell. I know very little about him; but my mother does, I have always heard. Do you--take any interest in Vicars, Miss Summerhayes?” “Oh, no,” said Janet. “I thought as he was such an old servant you must know him very well.” “So I do,” said Dolff, “and yet I don’t. I have not been much at home--only for the holidays when I was at school, and now only for vacations. And half the time we were always away at the seaside or somewhere. It is strange how little a fellow is at home when he is young, though of course when one is the only man of the family, and all that, I suppose you think I ought to pay some attention to things at my age.” “Oh, it was only an idle question,” Janet said. “But I should like you to know: everything is in my mother’s hands for her life. That is--not everything. I have the most of the money, but not till I’m twenty-five: and she has the house and all the management. Of course I ought to pay more attention; and if I was to marry, or that sort of thing, I should have to settle up, and I don’t know that she would have enough left to keep up this house. I have never thought of marrying till--quite lately; and I’ve always left everything in her hands and never interfered. Do you think I ought to pay more attention, Miss Summerhayes?” “Oh,” cried Janet, after two or three attempts to stop him, “I did not indeed want you to tell me about your family matters. It was only an idle question. I--I don’t like the look of the man, and I only asked for curiosity. I never wanted to pry into your family affairs.” Dolff gave her a look which was full of meaning. He drew himself up to his full length, and instinctively pulled at his shirt-collar, and smoothed his mustache. “Miss Summerhayes,” he said, with dignity, “never speak of prying, for that is what you could not do. It is I who wanted you to know.” CHAPTER XXIII.