On arriving at the Grange, Beatrice found Dinah and Jerry Snow walking down the avenue. Apparently they had been quarrelling, for they did not walk arm in arm as usual, and Jerry was as sulky as Dinah was tearful. "Whatever is the matter?" asked Beatrice, stopping. "It's Jerry's cruelty," mourned Dinah, whose sorrow made her look even plainer than usual. "It's Dinah's foolishness," retorted Jerry, and walked on. "Come back," cried the girl, "or I'll never, never, never speak to you again. Do you wish to break my heart?" "You're breaking it yourself," grumbled the young man. All the same, he returned to where the two girls were standing. "And after all I have put up with from your mother," complained Dinah. "Oh! leave my mother alone." "I wish she would leave me alone. She is always highly disagreeable to me. I believe it is a family failing," concluded Dinah spitefully. "Don't marry me, then." "I don't intend to--you--you bear!" Beatrice listened to all this with covert amusement. She knew that the two loved one another too well to think of parting, whatever might be the grounds of their quarrel. "Come, come," she said soothingly, and prepared to play the part of peacemaker. "What is the matter? Is Jerry jealous?" "No," snapped Dinah. "I am--very jealous. He"--she pointed to Jerry, who still looked sulky--"has been flirting with another girl. I was in the village an hour ago, and there was Jerry as bold as brass talking to a red-haired minx, who squinted." "She doesn't squint," growled Jerry. "There, you see; he defends her." "Dinah!" cried Jerry in desperation, "how can you be so silly? I love you and you only." "You love that horrid girl. I saw her looking at you." "A cat may look at a king." "She certainly is a cat, though you're not a king." "Well," said Beatrice, preparing to move on, "I am going back to the house, and you two can settle it yourselves." Dinah clung to her friend. "No. I won't be left alone with Jerry." "Well, then, explain," said Beatrice impatiently, for she had too many worries of her own to take any profound interest in the frivolous ones of these milk-and-water lovers. "I'll explain," said Mr. Snow defiantly. "There is a young lady I know in London----" "Young!" cried Dinah; "she's thirty-five, and painted." "Well, then, she came down here to the inn, and I met her outside. She exchanged a few words with me, and said that she wanted to know the nearest way to the Downs. It seems that her father is a shepherd on the Downs--a man called Orchard." "What?" cried Beatrice, disengaging herself from Dinah's too fond embrace. She could scarcely believe her ears. That she should come from seeing the ex-butler for the first time, to stumble--so to speak--across his daughter, was indeed an extraordinary coincidence. Jerry looked at her amazed, as he could not understand her tone. "Why do you look so astonished?" he asked.