"Am I casting you off, Brenda? This is only my second day at Castle Beverley, and you and your pupils are spending it here." "Yes, I know that, and I suppose I ought not to complain. But the fact is, it does make me cross to see the difference between this place and the horrid den in which I have to live at Marshlands-on-the-Sea. I shall get Harry--his name is Harry, but you mustn't breathe it--to buy a castle like this for me to live in when I am married. He can well afford it, for he is a--" "Is his name Harry?" asked Penelope, impressed by what seemed to her the romance of a real love story. "Yes--I told you so." "And his surname?" "I had better not breathe that yet. You mustn't know him really until we are properly engaged. He is exceedingly good-looking, of the blond type. He is--oh--somebody who will probably be a baronet. They make very rich City magnates--I think they are called--baronets now, and I shall be Lady--oh, I mustn't breathe the name. But listen; I want him to come to the point." "Why--hasn't he asked you yet?" exclaimed Penelope. "Hush, child! don't talk so loud! What an indelicate way you have of approaching the subject; you take the bloom off it--you really do. But you know, notwithstanding his enormous wealth, he has lofty ideas, and would be greatly impressed if he thought I was thick with the people here; so I want you to have me asked very often. And there's another thing; I should so like you to have us sent back in one of the carriages this evening." "Oh, Brenda! Didn't you desire the carriage you came in to call for you?" "Of course I didn't--you horrid little thing! Do you suppose I can run to the expense? Really, Penelope, you are too trying. I didn't desire the carriage to call--certainly not. If these grand people will see their humble visitors walking back to Marshlands in the heat of a summer's evening, why, they must--that's all. I should have thought that my sister could have managed differently." "I can't--I can't," said Penelope. "I hate asking favours. They're so--just more than--kind. Couldn't we send a message to Marshlands? I am sure a servant will be going in after lunch and I--I--would pay--I've got a few shillings." But this idea did not at all suit Brenda. "No," she said stoutly. "Nothing will induce me to take your money. If we're not driven in, in one of the Beverley carriages--we'll walk--we'll arrive dusty and worn out, and wretched at Mrs Dawson's--that is our landlady's odious name. But what I really desire is to have one of the Beverley carriages, and for--for my Harry to see me in it. I do think it would have a most excellent effect on him; he is so wonderfully impressed by real style--I never knew anything like it." "Well," said Penelope, "I really don't know how it is to be done. There's the gong for lunch. Shall we go into the house!"