Cousin Monica looked in my face with her old waggish smile, and laughed. 'You'll understand those London dandies better some day, dear Maud; they are very well, but they like money--not to keep, of course--but still they like it and know its value.' At breakfast my father told Captain Oakley where he might have shooting, or if he preferred going to Dilsford, only half an hour's ride, he might have his choice of hunters, and find the dogs there that morning. The Captain smiled archly at me, and looked at his aunt. There was a suspense. I hope I did not show how much I was interested--but it would not do. Cousin Monica was inexorable. 'Hunting, hawking, fishing, fiddle-de-dee! You know, Charlie, my dear, it is quite out of the question. He is going to Snodhurst this afternoon, and without quite a rudeness, in which I should be involved too, he really can't--you know you can't, Charles! and--and he _must_ go and keep his engagement.' So papa acquiesced with a polite regret, and hoped another time. 'Oh, leave all that to me. When you want him, only write me a note, and I'll send him or bring him if you let me. I always know where to find him--don't I, Charlie?--and we shall be only too happy.' Aunt Monica's influence with her nephew was special, for she 'tipped' him handsomely every now and then, and he had formed for himself agreeable expectations, besides, respecting her will. I felt rather angry at his submitting to this sort of tutelage, knowing nothing of its motive; I was also disgusted by Cousin Monica's tyranny. So soon as he had left the room, Lady Knollys, not minding me, said briskly to papa, 'Never let that young man into your house again. I found him making speeches, this morning, to little Maud here; and he really has not two pence in the world--it is amazing impudence--and you know such absurd things do happen.' 'Come, Maud, what compliments did he pay you?' asked my father. I was vexed, and therefore spoke courageously. 'His compliments were not to me; they were all to the house,' I said, drily. 'Quite as it should be--the house, of course; it is that he's in love with,' said Cousin Knollys. ''Twas on a widow's jointure land, The archer, Cupid, took his stand.' 'Hey! I don't quite understand,' said my father, slily. 'Tut! Austin; you forget Charlie is my nephew.' 'So I did,' said my father. 'Therefore the literal widow in this case _can_ have no interest in view but one, and that is yours and Maud's. I wish him well, but he shan't put my little cousin and her expectations into his empty pocket--_not_ a bit of it. And _there's_ another reason, Austin, why you should marry--you have no eye for these things, whereas a clever _woman_ would see at a glance and prevent mischief.' 'So she would,' acquiesced my father, in his gloomy, amused way. 'Maud, you must try to be a clever woman.'