Sarah's eyes opened wide with a question in them, but her lips remained sealed, and I would not satisfy her curiosity, which I knew was at boiling-point, until she had made a direct request. Her manner had resolved my doubts into fears, so as she did not speak, I continued:-- "But you must be able to form an opinion as to what your sister is doing. You are with her all the time, and every young girl instinctively knows the symptoms of love, even though she may never have felt them." "Not I!" she answered, with sharp emphasis. "Oh, but you may suspect or surmise," I insisted. "Suspect sometimes. Surmise never. Waste of energy," answered Sarah, who, of all the persons I knew, had energy to spare. "It would be a crime, a horrible crime," I continued, hoping in time to extract her opinion, "if your beautiful sister were to throw herself away on any man to be met hereabout." "Horrible!" acquiesced Sarah, earnestly. "Then why don't you watch her, and, if need be, prevent such a mistake?" I suggested. "Not necessary," answered Sarah. As she failed to explain, I asked, "Why is it not necessary?" "Because she is not a fool," returned Sarah, indicating by her manner that I might find her meaning if I could. A moment's thought carried me to her conclusions, and I laughed because I was answered and pleased, being convinced that Sarah, at least, did not consider her sister in danger. Then I caught Sarah in my arms and kissed her, saying:-- "A kiss! That's for wisdom, cousin!" Sarah's was a drawing personality. "A slap! That's for impudence!" answered Sarah, suiting the action to the word, though there was a smile in her eyes. Later in the afternoon Frances came home radiant and offered me her cheek to kiss. She was delighted to see me, though I noticed short lapses from attention, which seemed to indicate preoccupation. But I had learned my lesson from Sarah and soon came back to my belief that Frances was not a fool, and that whatever malady her symptoms might indicate, she would never permit it to inure her. After talking with my uncle and my cousins a few minutes, I said: "I have had a long ride and want a good supper Come, Frances, let us go out and buy all the good things in Sundridge." Sir Richard said nothing, and a faint shadow of humiliation came to Frances's face, but practical Sarah settled the question by saying:-- "Go with him, Frances, and see that he buys enough. You know we have had barely a crust in the house the last fortnight, and not a farthing in all that time with which to buy one. We have a warm welcome for you, Baron Ned, but welcome after a long ride is a mere appetizer. I'll fetch a basket--yes, two!" The name "Baron Ned" was a heritage from the days of my childhood, and doubtless it will cling to me till the day of my death. I have never objected to it on the lips of my friends, but rather, have always liked it.