"Why, he was down in Derbyshire," said the Colonel. "He told me he didn't feel quite well, and wanted a day or two for rest in the country. He said he was going to fish. I don't like giving leaves of absence--we're here only for twenty-eight days; but in his case, you know, after that accident"-- "Oh, he went down to Derbyshire, did he? Then I know for certain who the girl is. It's Alice Stedman. Her father is down there, fishing." "And who's she?" "Why, you met her at Whittlecup, at Joseph Anison's. She's a quiet bit of a lass, and a nice-looking lass, too. He might do worse." "I say," said the Colonel, "tell me now, Doctor, has she got any tin?" "She's safe to have thirty thousand if she's a penny; but it'll most likely be a good bit more." Then the Doctor continued, "But there's no blood in that family. Her father began as a working man in Shayton. It wouldn't be much of a match for a Stanburne. It would not be doing like you, Colonel, when you married an earl's daughter." "Hang earls' daughters!" said the Colonel, energetically; and then, recollecting himself, he added, "Not all of 'em, you know, Doctor--I don't want all of 'em to be hanged. But this young woman--I suppose she hasn't been presented at Court, and doesn't want to be--and doesn't go to London every season, and has no swell relations." The Doctor gave full assurances on all these points. "Then I'll tell you what it is, Doctor; if this young fellow's fretting about the girl, we'll do all we can to help him. He'd be more prudent still if he remained a bachelor; but it seems a rational sort of a marriage to make. She ain't got an uncle that's a baronet--eh, Doctor?" "There's no danger of that." "That's right, that's right; because, look you here, Doctor--it's a foolish thing to marry an earl's daughter, or a marquis's, or a duke's; but the foolishest thing of all is to marry a baronet's niece. A baronet's niece is the proudest woman in the whole world, and she's always talking about her uncle. A young friend of mine married a baronet's niece, and she gave him no rest till, by good luck, one day _his_ uncle was created a baronet, and then he met her on equal terms. It's the only way out of it: you _must_ under those circumstances get your uncle made a baronet. And if you don't happen to have such a thing as an uncle, what then? What can cheer the hopelessness of your miserable position?" After this conversation with the Doctor, the Colonel had another with Philip Stanburne himself. "Captain Stanburne," he said, gravely, in an interval of afternoon drill, "I consider you wanting in the duties of hospitality. I ask you to the Sootythorn mess, and you never ask me to the Whittlecup mess. I am reduced to ask myself. I beg to inform you that I shall dine at the Whittlecup mess this evening." "I should be very happy, but--but I'm afraid you'll have a bad dinner. There's nothing but a beefsteak."