The person smiled. He was a handsome young fellow, with dark hair and a pale face, and he looked at Rosamund with a pair of thoughtful eyes. His dress was plain and rather the worse for wear; but round his neck a bright spade guinea was hung by a silken string. It did not seem different from any other spade guinea, yet there must have been something peculiar about it. For it gave a kind of dignity to the young man's aspect, so that if you fixed your eyes upon the coin you forgot the wearer's shabbiness, and almost fancied him to be a noble and opulent personage. Whether the owner were aware of this or not is another question; but, as a general thing, young people seldom know what it is about them that makes them attractive. 'I hope you are thirsty?' Rosamund repeated, in a business-like tone, as she leaned against the other side of the counter, and looked up at the young man with her lovely blue eyes. 'I am not thirsty, Rosamund,' he replied, 'but I am tired.' 'I've always heard that doing nothing was tiresome. Perhaps you'd like to take a chair and sit down? I really must go on with my churning.' 'It isn't that kind of tired that I mean,' said he; 'but if you'll let me sit down in the dairy I don't mind.' Rosamund made no objection, so he vaulted over the counter and they went into the dairy together. 'I'm so tired waiting!' he added, with a sigh. 'And what are you waiting for, may I ask?' 'For something great to happen!' 'Oh! Then why don't you make it happen?' 'I wish I could!' sighed the young man. Rosamund tied her apron on again, and laid hold of the churn-handle. 'What do you call great?' she asked, beginning to work it up and down. The young man took his gold coin meditatively between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it on its silken string. 'Greatness is everything that I have not, and want to have,' he said. 'Such as what?' 'Oh, power and wealth, and to be above other men, and to have them look up to me and obey me. That is greatness.' 'Pooh!' exclaimed Rosamund, working her churn vigorously. 'I shouldn't care about such greatness as that.' 'Not care about it, Rosamund?' 'Not so much as a pat of butter, Raymond. What do you want of wealth? Are you hungry, pray, or thirsty? I will give you as much of the best milk, fresh from the cow, as you can drink; and all the wealth in the world couldn't help you to drink more. As for power--however high it brought you, it couldn't make you yourself higher by so much as a single inch: you would still be the same Raymond you are now, even if you were an emperor--yes, or that Appanage of Royalty you've been thinking and talking about all these dozen years or more. Why do you want people to look up to you and obey you, I should like to know? Can't you see that it's not you they would look up to, but your ermine robe and silk stockings----'