"Roger Hamley there!" said Mr. Gibson. "He's come home then. I must

make time to ride over and see him."

"You'd much better ask him here," said Mrs. Gibson. "Suppose you

invite him and his brother to dine here on Friday, my dear. It would

be a very pretty attention, I think."

"My dear! these young Cambridge men have a very good taste in wine,

and don't spare it. My cellar won't stand many of their attacks."

"I didn't think you were so inhospitable, Mr. Gibson."

"I'm not inhospitable, I'm sure. If you'll put 'bitter beer' in the

corner of your notes of invitation, just as the smart people put

'quadrilles' as a sign of the entertainment offered, we'll have

Osborne and Roger to dinner any day you like. And what did you think

of my favourite, Cynthia? You hadn't seen him before, I think?"

"Oh! he's nothing like so handsome as his brother; nor so polished;

nor so easy to talk to. He entertained me for more than an hour with

a long account of some examination or other; but there's something

one likes about him."

"Well--and Molly," said Mrs. Gibson, who piqued herself on being an

impartial stepmother, and who always tried hard to make Molly talk as

much as Cynthia,--"what sort of an evening have you had?"

"Very pleasant, thank you." Her heart a little belied her as she said

this. She had not cared for the round game; and she would have cared

for Roger's conversation. She had had what she was indifferent to,

and not had what she would have liked.

"We've had our unexpected visitor, too," said Mr. Gibson. "Just after

dinner, who should come in but Mr. Preston. I fancy he's having

more of the management of the Hollingford property than formerly.

Sheepshanks is getting an old man. And if so, I suspect we shall

see a good deal of Preston. He's 'no blate,' as they used to say in

Scotland, and made himself quite at home to-night. If I'd asked him

to stay, or, indeed, if I'd done anything but yawn, he'd have been

here now. But I defy any man to stay when I've a fit of yawning."

"Do you like Mr. Preston, papa?" asked Molly.

"About as much as I do half the men I meet. He talks well, and has

seen a good deal. I know very little of him, though, except that he's

my lord's steward, which is a guarantee for a good deal."

"Lady Harriet spoke pretty strongly against him that day I was with

her at the Manor-house."

"Lady Harriet's always full of fancies: she likes persons to-day, and

dislikes them to-morrow," said Mrs. Gibson, who was touched on her

sore point whenever Molly quoted Lady Harriet, or said anything to

imply ever so transitory an intimacy with her.




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