pon their arrival in Berkeley Square, they were admitted into the house by the porter. Freddy was just about to take formal leave of his betrothed when his sister, attired in a flounced and frilled dressing-gown of rose-pink silk, appeared at the head of the staircase, and began to deliver herself of a dignified request to Miss Charing to come to her bedroom before she retired to her own. As the speech had been carefully composed and conned, it was a pity that the greater part of it remained unuttered. Her ladyship, perceiving Kitty’s escort, broke off in sudden dismay, and clutched the banister-rail. “F-Freddy?” she said faintly.

“Oh, Meg, is that you?” cried Kitty, nobly coming to her rescue. “I wish you had not sat up for me! Was it very tedious, your party?”

A speaking look of gratitude was cast down at her. Meg recovered her colour a little, and replied: “Oh, yes, a dead bore! Do, pray, come to my room! Goodnight, Freddy! Don’t keep Kitty standing down there, prosing on for ever!” She waved an airy hand, and disappeared again from view.

Freddy, who had been surveying her with an expression on his face of strong disapproval, said despairingly: “Pink! Dashed if I know why it is, but a female’s only got to have a yaller head, and nothing will do for her but to wear pink! Can’t be surprised poor Buckhaven’s gone to China, can you? Now, mind, Kit! not a word to her about your cousin!”

“No, I promise I will be utterly silent on that head!” Kitty assured him, giving him her hand, and clasping his warmly. “Goodnight! And indeed I thank you, Freddy!”

He kissed her fingers gracefully, “No, no! Pleasure!” he stammered.

He then departed, and Kitty sped up the stairs to her hostess’s room. Their quarrel was forgotten: Meg said without preamble: “Kitty, how in the world came Freddy to bring you home? Good God, I was ready to sink!”

“He went to fetch me from the Scortons’ house, learned where I had gone, and came there in search of me. What a goose you are, Meg! I was in agonies lest you should betray yourself!”

“He didn’t suspect?” Meg said anxiously.

“No, of course he did not!”

“What an escape!” shuddered Meg. “I have been quite sick with apprehension, for he doesn’t like it when I go out with Jack, and if he knew of this I daresay he would tell Papa, and you may depend upon it I should be packed off to stay with Lady Buckhaven on the instant! I must say, it was excessively handsome of you not to have told him, Kitty!”

“As though I would do anything so shabby!” exclaimed Kitty. “But whatever possessed you to go to the Opera House? How could Jack have taken you there? I saw at once that it was not at all the sort of party one ought to go to, and surely he must have known that!”

“Oh, yes! He said that Freddy would have his blood, if he came to hear of it, but there was not the least harm, you know! I have always so wished to go to one of those masquerades, and of course Buckhaven will never take me, and nor will Freddy, so I teased Jack to! He took very good care of me, I assure you, and it is not as though I was unmasked. We came away at midnight, but I should like to have remained, for I thought it was very good sport, though, of course, shockingly vulgar! Did you enjoy it?”

Kitty shuddered. “It was quite the worst evening I have ever spent!” she said. “I was never more thankful in my life than when I saw Freddy!”

“Was he very much vexed?” enquired Meg. “He has such stuffy notions!”

“No, no, he was so kind that I almost burst into tears! And he might have reproached me! I do think,” said Kitty fervently, “that Freddy is the most truly chivalrous person imaginable!”

Freddy’s sister, regarding her with awe, opened her mouth, shut it again, swallowed, and managed to say, though in a faint voice: “Do you, indeed?”

“Yes, and a great deal more to the purpose than all the people one was taught to revere, like Sir Lancelot, and Sir Galahad, and Young Lochinvar, and—and that kind of man! I daresay Freddy might not be a great hand at slaying dragons, but you may depend upon it none of those knight-errants would, be able to rescue one from a social fix, and you must own, Meg, that one has not the smallest need of a man who can kill dragons! And as for riding off with one in the middle of a party, which I have always thought must have been extremely uncomfortable, and not at all the sort of thing one would wish to happen to one—What is the matter?”

Meg raised her head from the sofa-cushions: “He w-would say it was n-not at all the th-thing!”

“Very well, and why should he not?” said Kitty, refusing to share in her hostess’s unseemly mirth. “If you were to hear of such a thing’s happening, you would think it most improper, now, wouldn’t you?” A sudden thought occurred to her, and she choked, and said, in an uncertain tone: “As a matter of fact, he said that Lochinvar sounded to him like a d-dashed loose-screw!”

A wail from the depths of the cushions proved to be too much for Kitty’s command over herself. Both ladies then enjoyed a very hearty laugh; after which they embraced, and parted company for the night without exchanging any further confidences.

The following day passed uneventfully, the only excursion undertaken by two rather weary ladies being a walk to Mount Street, whither they went to take leave of Lady Legerwood, who was conveying the nursery-party to Margate that day. As this included Fanny and her governess, her ladyship’s own maid, and two damsels hired to wait on the nursery and the schoolroom, it was an impressive cortege which set out from London, Lady Legerwood carrying Edmund in her own post-chaise; Miss Kendal and the two unmarried daughters of the house following in a second chaise; and Nurse, with the attendant abigails, and a mountain of baggage, bringing up the rear in a large travelling-coach. Lord Legerwood, who was escorting his family, and remaining with them for a few days, had taken one look at the pile of invalid comforts destined for the chaise that bore his ailing youngest son, and had said that he preferred to ride.

Lady Legerwood, although flustered by all the bustle of departure, found time to sit for a few minutes with the visitors, enquiring anxiously after Meg’s state of health, giving her a great deal of good advice, charging Kitty to take care of her, and loading both young ladies with conflicting admonitions on what they should do in the event of accident. She said worriedly that she very much disliked being obliged to leave them unprotected, but derived a certain modicum of comfort from the reflection that it would not be many days before Lord Legerwood was back in town.

“Meanwhile, my love,” said his lordship, taking snuff, “you may safely leave them in Freddy’s care.”

These bland words caused his heir, who had joined the party, very natty in a new coat of blue superfine and pantaloons of a delicate dove-shade, to eye him with acute suspicion. Perceiving it, he laughed, and said: “Pray do not look at me as though I were a coiled snake, Freddy! I am sure you will take excellent care of the girls. My dear, I do not wish to hurry you, but it is time we were setting forward.”

Everyone then went out to where the carriages waited; a footman was sent to fetch another rug for the invalid; Nurse and Miss Kendal dissuaded her ladyship from unpacking a valise to assure herself that Edmund’s medicine had not been forgotten; farewells were spoken, kisses exchanged, and at last the steps of the carriages were let up, and the doors shut. Kitty, who could never see Lady Legerwood without suffering a smart of conscience, and was particularly discomposed by having received a very kind embrace from her, found that Lord Legerwood was at her elbow, and was thrown into still worse confusion by his holding out his hand to her, and saying, with s smile: “For the present, goodbye, my child. I look forward to having you under my own roof at no very distant date now.”

A blush flooded her cheeks; she stammered she knew not what; and cast an almost frightened look up into his face.

“Don’t run away, will you?” he said quizzically. “I like Freddy’s engagement very well, you know. It has done him a great deal of good.”

“Sir—Lord Legerwood!” she said desperately. “I cannot—”

“You cannot talk to me in the open street. Very true! You shall tell me all about it next week, when I return to town. I must go now.”

He gave her hand a pat, and released it, bade farewell to his son and daughter, mounted his horse, and rode off in the wake of the carriages.

“What can Papa have meant?” wondered Meg. “What are you to tell him, Kitty. Why do you look so oddly?”

“I don’t think I have anything I need tell him,” replied Kitty, in a hollow tone. “Do you, Freddy?”

“No,” said Freddy, “but there’s something he might have told me! Dash it, I ought to have thought of it before! When does term end?” He saw that he had mystified his audience, and added impatiently: “Oxford!”

“Good gracious, I don’t know!” said Meg. “What does it signify?”

“It may not signify anything to you, but it dashed well does to me!” said Freddy, with feeling. “Because if m’father’s gone junketing off to Margate, and I’ve to take care of Charlie, it’s the outside of enough! The last time Charlie was in town he was pounded by the Watch, and I had to go and bail him out at three in the morning, because he’d spent his last groat! Yes, you may laugh, Meg, but you know very well that if Charlie comes down from Oxford, and finds m’father away, he’ll be bound to kick up some lark or other! I don’t say it ain’t a natural thing to do, but the thing is I

shall get the blame for it. I must go and take a look at the calendar at once.”

“Freddy, you will come to see me later, won’t you?” Kitty begged. “You know we have something important to discuss!”

“Yes, I’ll come tomorrow,” he said. “Must make sure Charlie don’t catch me napping first!”

Kitty was a good deal amused, but as she and Meg began to walk back to Berkeley Square, Meg said: ‘‘Poor Freddy! He is for ever being obliged to get Charlie out of a scrape, you know!”

“But I thought Charlie was the clever one!” objected Kitty.

“Oh, yes, indeed he is! He took a great many prizes at Eton, and never finds the least difficulty in learning anything! Only, of course, Freddy is the eldest, besides being on the town, and so it is not to be wondered at that Charlie depends upon him in all his absurd fixes. Charlie,” said Meg, with simple pride, “is very wild, you see.”

Upon the following morning, while she waited for Meg in the barouche, outside a shop in Bond Street, Kitty heard her name spoken, and turned her head from the contemplation of a hat in a milliner’s window across the street to find that Mrs. Broughty and Olivia had paused beside the carriage.

She saw at once that Olivia was looking pale and unhappy, and realized, as soon as Mrs. Broughty began to speak, that that lady was very much incensed at the knowledge that she had been to the masquerade. The most profuse apologies to Miss Charing tripped off her tongue; she dared not hope that she would forgive Olivia for having drawn her into such a scrape; feared she must have been very much disgusted; scarcely knew how she herself could ever venture to look dear Lady Buckhaven in the face again. Hoping very much that Meg would not suddenly appear to put her to this necessity, Kitty said everything that was proper, even going so far as to assert mendaciously that she had passed a very agreeable evening.

“I would not have had such a thing happen for the world!” Mrs. Broughty declared, a flush of annoyance in her cheeks. “Opera House masquerades indeed! I cannot conceive how Olivia can have consented to such a vulgar scheme, for you are not to be thinking, Miss Charing, that I have not taught her better, as I don’t doubt you must be. Fine doings for a gentleman’s daughter, as I have been telling her ever since I heard about this start! If she does not destroy all her chances, it will be no fault of hers, I am sure! I was never more put-out in my life!”

“Oh, pray, hush, ma’am!” begged Kitty, perceiving that Olivia was on the brink of tears. “There was no harm done, I do assure you! Have you some errand in Bond Street? I am awaiting Lady Buckhaven, and should be so much obliged to you if you will permit Olivia to bear me company for a few minutes!”

“I am sure the obligation is all on my side, dear Miss Charing, for I was prepared for you to cut the connection, and never have another word to say to Olivia! I am bound for Hookham’s Library, and I shall be very happy to leave Olivia with you, if you will be so condescending as to overlook her conduct.”

“If Olivia will be so good as to stroll with me down the street, I will bring her to Hookham’s in a few minutes,” promised Kitty, descending from the barouche. Addressing the footman who had jumped down to open the door for her, she said: “If her ladyship should return before I do myself, please inform her that I shall not be gone above fifteen minutes!” She then bowed civilly to Mrs. Broughty, and bore Olivia off in the opposite direction to Hookham’s, saying, as she slipped a hand in her arm: “We cannot talk freely in the carriage, so I thought you would not object to walking a little way with me. My dear, pray do not look so cast-down! Indeed, there is not the least need! I am sorry your Mama should be so much vexed, and fear you have been having a sad time of it, poor little thing!”

“It has been so dreadful!” Olivia said, in a trembling voice. “I thought we must have packed our trunks yesterday, for Mama quarrelled quite shockingly with Aunt Matty—I daresay you might have heard them half a mile away, particularly when my poor aunt fell into strong hysterics. However, it is now made-up between them, only Mama says that I have ruined all my chances, besides having behaved ill from the start, in not making a push to avail myself of all the opportunities that have been put in my way. But, oh, my dear Miss Charing, I did try to do just what she bid me, and I should have been very glad to have caught a rich husband then, for I had not met Camille! Only now it is all changed, and the only hope I have is that I shall go into a decline, and die!”

Slightly startled by this peculiar ambition, Kitty said: “Good God, don’t speak of such a thing! May I talk frankly to you? My cousin disclosed the whole to me, as I daresay he may have told you. You may guess how shocked I am, and how distressed to think that it should have been I who made him known to you! Believe me, had I had the smallest suspicion of the truth, I would never have done so! I have been an ill friend to you, Olivia. I am fully conscious of it!”

“Oh, no, no, never!” Olivia exclaimed. “We loved one another at first sight! Whatever becomes of me, I cannot regret that I have known him! But even hope is denied us: it is useless to suppose that Mama would give her consent, for although Camille’s Papa, you know, is in a very good way of business—he is the proprietor of several gaming establishments in Paris, and all of them of the first style of elegance!— Mama is so determined I should make a grand match that I know it would not do for her. Then, too, how would Camille’s Papa regard it? I have no fortune, and it is precisely that which Camille came to England to seek! Oh, Miss Charing, when I consider that I must be the unwitting cause of perhaps destroying all his chances, I declare I could almost cast myself into the river!”

Kitty had been prepared for reproaches, but scarcely for this. It was a moment before she could collect her wits enough to answer: “But you could not wish to marry one who is—alas!—an impostor? Worse! It pains me to say it, for I too had the greatest kindness for Camille! but I fear, Olivia, he is an adventurer! He has deceived us all I The shock to me has been severe; to you how much more so it must have been!”

“Oh, yes, for I knew on the instant that Mama would dislike it extremely! But he has not deceived me, dear Miss Charing! Nothing could be more noble than his conduct!”

“Olivia!” said Kitty, trying to reassemble her thoughts. “You cannot mean that you would be willing to ally yourself with him!”

“Oh, if it were possible!” sighed Olivia. “I am sure I do not know why a man should not be a gamester, if his talents make it an eligible profession for him! Can it be that you suspect him of employing cheating tricks? I assure you, it is unjust! He says that Greeking methods never answer, and that he never uses them, save in the direst straits! His Papa’s houses are patronized by all the grandest people, and they never use loaded dice, or buy inferior wines! That, Camille says, is a very false economy. Everything should always be of the best, so that one’s clients may be pleased, and come again and again. Of course, it costs a great deal of money at the outset, but the returns are enormous!”

Kitty could think of nothing better to say than: “Are they, indeed?”

“Yes, although there are, as one can readily perceive, great hazards. Only fancy! A run of luck may break the bank at any moment! How exciting it must be! I had previously no notion!”

“No?” said Kitty, quite stunned.

“No, for I knew nothing of such matters.” Olivia sighed, and relapsed into a mood of dejection. “But it is all to no avail! Mama would never give her consent.”

“You must love my cousin very much!” Kitty said. “Oh, dear, I wish—But that’s to no purpose! Do you think, if Camille were to engage upon some respectable occupation —? No, I suppose it would not answer.”

“Oh, no, for how should he succeed? He was bred to his profession, you see, and you must perceive that with his air and address, and his great skill, it is the very thing for him! Moreover, it is very romantic to be for ever pitting one’s wits against everyone, and I could not endure it if I were to be the means of thrusting him into some occupation which he would think a dead bore! I must put him out of my thoughts, though of course I never shall, for how shocking it would be if I were to ruin his whole career! Besides,” added Olivia, on a sob, “it is out of the question that I should be able to do so! Mama says I must make up my mind to it to accept Sir Henry, if he should be so obliging as to offer for me!”

They had turned, by this time, and were retracing their steps. “That,” said Kitty decidedly, “you must never do! My poor Olivia, it is the most shocking coil, and I don’t know what to say, except that it would be quite wicked of you to marry that odious old man!”

“Indeed, I would much rather die!” Olivia said earnestly. “The very thought of it casts me into such despair that I am sure it would be better for me to be dead! But Mama says that he cannot live for ever, and in the meantime I may have as many lovers as I please, provided only that I am discreet. But I do not want many lovers!”

“Good God, I should hope not!” exclaimed Kitty.

“I shall never love anyone but my Camille!” said Olivia, showing an alarming tendency to dissolve into tears.

“For heavens’ sake, Olivia, don’t start to cry!” begged Kitty. “Recollect, it is not in your Mama’s power to force you into a distasteful marriage! Oh, if only I could see what was best to be done, but I am wholly at a loss!”

“Oh, Miss Charing, will you help me?”

“Yes, yes, to the utmost of my power, but it is all such a dreadful tangle—Olivia, pray dry your eyes! We are approaching the library!”

Olivia obediently produced her handkerchief, saying gratefully: “I knew you would stand my friend!”

Since Kitty, though anxious to befriend her, had no idea how this was to be done, she felt very much conscience-stricken, and was glad to be able to restore her to Mrs. Broughty before she was called upon to outline some scheme for her relief. The only course that offered itself to her was to confide the whole to Freddy; but as he had sent a message to Berkeley Square that he would dine with his sister that evening, she had a good many hours to while away before she could seek his advice. These were spent by her in concocting and immediately discarding a number of quite unsuitable stratagems, and in blaming herself bitterly for her part in the affair. A diversion was created midway through the afternoon by Mr. Westruther, who came to pay a morning-visit. As Meg had retired to lie down upon her bed, Kitty received him alone, and would not have received him at all had she had the least warning of his arrival. But he was ushered into the drawing-room, where she sat brooding by the fire, so that she had no opportunity to deny herself.

She accorded him a somewhat cool welcome, but he was quite impervious to such snubs, merely laughing at her, and saying, with a quizzical lift of one eyebrow: “Vexed with me, Kitty? For taking Meg to the masquerade? Now, consider how unjust! Am I vexed with you for allowing your fascinating cousin to be your cicisbeo? Certainly not! I hope you enjoyed an excellent evening’s entertainment.”

She ignored the greater part of this speech. “No, I did not enjoy it, and I am astonished that you could have taken Meg to such an improper party!”

“Little prude!” he said, amused. “Did not the dashing Chevalier take good care of you? I had thought him to have been quite in his element!”

“I collect,” said Kitty, boldly confronting him, “that you have taken my cousin in aversion. Will you be so good as to tell me why?”

“My dear Kitty, what in the world can I have said to put such a notion as that into your head? You wrong me, really you do! So far from taking the Chevalier in aversion, I admire his address profoundly, and quite envy him his assurance. Such delightful Gallic polish, and so skilled a card-player! It is a privilege to have met him. Indeed, I hope he may be going to do me the honour of visiting me this very evening, to pit his skill against mine. I am myself a gamester, you know, and I have a great desire to measure myself against one whom I have reason to think a past master in the art.”

She was dismayed, but summoned up enough courage to reply: “I wish you may not have cause to regret it!”

“Ah, well!” he said, his eyes glinting down at her. “Perhaps he may have the advantage of me in some respects, but in others I venture to think that I have the advantage of him.”

She was silenced, and he presently left her a prey to uneasiness. There could be no doubt that he knew that Olivia had been at the masquerade, for she recalled that she had herself told him that she was there with the Scortons; and she could not rid her mind of its suspicion that his invitation to her cousin to visit him must have some bearing on this circumstance.

When Freddy arrived in Berkeley Square that evening, she could scarcely restrain her impatience to take him apart, and pour her apprehensions into his ear; but as it lacked only a few minutes to the dinner-hour, and Meg had already joined her in the drawing-room, this was clearly ineligible. Moreover, it immediately became apparent that grave cares were pressing upon Freddy’s soul, for upon his sister’s demanding of him, in a rallying tone, whether Charles had already descended on the town, he replied: “No, term don’t end for another ten days. It’s worse than that! Dashed if I didn’t receive a letter from him this morning! Yes, and what’s more, I had to pay sixpence for it, which I’d as lief not have done. It ain’t that I grudge sixpence, but what I mean is, why the deuce should I have to give sixpence for a thing I’d as soon, not have?”

“Oh, heavens, is he in a scrape?” exclaimed Meg.

“Well, of course he is! Knew that as soon as I saw the letter! Stands to reason! What would he want to write to me for, if he hadn’t made a cake of himself in some way or another? Never knew such a fellow! Mind, I daresay it’s only some snyder dunning him, but there’s nothing for it: I shall have to take a bolt to Oxford tomorrow.”

“Going out of town now1.” cried Kitty.

“Yes, but I shan’t be gone above one night. Dashed inconvenient, but the thing is, if Charlie’s landed himself in the basket, must pull him out! Fond of him,” he added, on an explanatory note. “Besides—wouldn’t do for it to come to m’father’s ears!”

“No, indeed! Of course you must go! I hope you may not find that anything very serious is amiss.”

“Yes, I hope so too,” said Freddy. “Because if it’s anything that means I must go and talk to the Bag-wig—what I mean is, the Dean—it’s no use going to Oxford at all, because I don’t suppose he’d listen to me. Never did when I was up myself, and dashed well had to talk to him. Not that I wanted to, mind you, but there it was: obliged to!”

“Could it be that Charlie has become entangled?” suggested Meg, looking anxious.

Freddy rubbed his nose. “Got into the muslin-company? Might, of course, though he ain’t one for the petticoats. Oh, well, if that’s all it is, nothing to worry about! Buy her off!”

On this comforting thought, they all went in to dinner. The lighthearted insouciance which characterized the Standens had its effect upon Kitty; and her desponding mood soon changed to one of hope. She was still quite unable to see any way in which she could help Olivia to overcome her troubles, but the cheerful nonchalance with which Freddy confronted the task of rescuing his graceless junior from whatever dire straits he had fallen into insensibly made her feel that the tangle caused by her cousin’s descent upon London would not be beyond his power to unravel.

When Meg kindly, but (as she pointed out to them) reprehensibly, left the betrothed couple to their own devices, later in the evening, it could not have been said that Freddy’s ingenuity was displayed to any marked degree. He explained, when asked if he had thought what was best to be done, that he had had no leisure in which to examine the problem. “Must see I haven’t, Kit! Had a great deal on my mind. Gave me a nasty jar, I can tell you, when it struck me Charlie might be coming down any day. Dashed calendar of mine don’t tell one the dates of the terms, either. Took me the better part of the day to find ‘em. And now, just as I thought all was right, I’ve got to go jauntering off to Oxford, and I daresay I shall have to do a lot of thinking when I get there. The thing is, Charlie’s a dashed clever fellow, but he ain’t got a particle of common-sense. No use asking me to get rid of the Chevalier until I come back to town. Do it then.”

“Get rid of him? But how can we, when you yourself said it would be useless to threaten to expose him unless he went away?”

“I don’t know, but very likely I shall hit on something. Well, dashed well must! He hasn’t been calling here, has he?”

“No, oh, no! But I met Olivia today, and I very much fear that it has gone deeper with her than I knew. I own that what she said astonished me! It seems as though the only thing she cares for is that Mrs. Broughty would never countenance such a match. You may imagine my surprise when I discovered that Camille’s disclosure has not shocked her, as it shocked me!”

“Daresay it wouldn’t,” responded Freddy, after giving the matter some thought. “Come to think of it, Kit, bit of an adventuress herself!”

“Freddy!”

He gave an apologetic cough, but said firmly: “No use wrapping the thing up in clean linen. I don’t say it’s her fault, but she told you herself she came to town to catch a rich husband. Well, nothing to way against that! Point is, that Broughty woman would play any havey-cavey trick to bring the thing off. Unscrupulous, that’s the word!”

“She is, yes! But not Olivia!”

“Very likely not, because she hasn’t the wit for it. No wish to offend you, Kit, but she sounds a cork-brained girl to me. Always did! I don’t say she ain’t goodhearted, but if she’s got the sort of principles you have yourself I’d like to know where she learned ‘em!”

Kitty stared at him in a little dismay. “Must one learn to have principles?” she faltered.

“Lord, yes! Well, I put it to you, Kit! How the deuce would you know the right way to go on if you was never taught anything but the wrong way?”

She digested this for a moment in silence. “I fear there may be much in what you say,” she said reluctantly. “It has sometimes seemed to me that poor Olivia’s thoughts have not a proper direction, and I have wondered at it, for, indeed, Freddy, she is a good, kind girl! But however it may be it would, be wicked to see her thrust into marriage with such a person as Sir Henry Gosford, and make not one push to save her! And when I consider what the alternative might be, and how much I am to blame for her present distress, I feel that I must try to help her! I am persuaded you must enter into my sentiments upon this occasion!”

Mr. Standen was far from doing any such thing, but he was never one to engage in fruitless argument, so he held his peace. He perceived, however, that Miss Charing’s large charity would not permit her to abandon her unfortunate protégée, and eyed her with a good deal of misgiving.

She had risen from her chair, and was walking restlessly about the room. “Something must be done for Olivia!” she said. “She depends upon me to help her, which makes it so particularly dreadful that I cannot! And then there is poor Dolph! All this business has almost made me forget him and Hannah! What wretched work I am making of it!”

“Know what I think, Kit? Good thing if you did forget ‘em! What I mean is, very sorry for the poor fellow, but got enough on our hands without him.”

“Oh, no! When I pledged them my word I would assist them!”

Freddy sighed.

“And then there is myself!” Kitty said. “I can’t tell how it has come about, but I have done nothing of what I intended! Freddy, we must not continue in this fashion! It was very wrong of me ever to ask such a thing of you! Wrong, and so foolish that I am amazed at myself! Only see what has come of it!”

“Dash it, Kit, thought you was enjoying yourself!” said Freddy, a little hurt.

She turned impulsively towards him. “Oh, it has been the most delightful thing that ever happened to me!” she said. “I shall remember it my whole life long! I never was so happy! But it must end. On that I am resolved! We must consider what is best to be done.”

“Talk it over when I come back from Oxford,” said Freddy.

“Perhaps,” said Kitty, “the thing would be for us to quarrel.”

“No, dash it! I don’t want to quarrel with you!”

“And I am sure I could never quarrel with you, Freddy!” said Kitty warmly.

“There you are, then! No sense in it.”

“I meant only that we should pretend to quarrel.”

“Wouldn’t answer at all,” said Freddy. “Everyone knows I ain’t quarrelsome. Tell you what, Kit: good notion if we don’t tease ourselves about that till we’ve packed your cousin off to France. Got to pack Dolph off to Ireland, too.”

“But you said you wished I would not!”

“Oh, well!” said Freddy, in a temporizing spirit. “I’d liefer you did that than started quarrelling with me! Come to think of it, it ain’t such a bad notion. Might as well be rid of Dolph while we’re about it. Mind, I don’t dislike the poor fellow, but it ain’t what I’d choose, having a cousin who’s queer in his attic loose on the town!”

“No, indeed! Oh, dear, I cannot help wishing that you were not obliged to go to Oxford tomorrow!”

“No need to worry about that,” said Freddy kindly. “Shan’t stay above one night there, and I don’t mean to dawdle on the road. Hired a chaise-and-four. Won’t take me much above four hours to get back to town. Make an early start, and be in London by noon. No time for anything to go amiss here. Besides, no reason why anything should. Wouldn’t go if there was.”