“Well, you remember one of my guardians, or rather his wife, got ‘it’ to appoint her my chaperon, but my other guardian wanted to appoint somebody else, and after taking eighteen months to do it, he has moved the court to show that Grumps is not a ‘fit and proper person.’  The idea of calling Grumps improper.  She nearly fainted at it, and swore that, whether she lived through it or whether she didn’t, she would never come within a mile of me or any other ward if she could help it, not even the ward of an hospital.  I told her to be careful, or she would be ‘committing contempt,’ which frightened her so that she hardly spoke again till she left yesterday.  Poor Grumps!  I expect she is on bread and water now; but if she makes herself half as disagreeable to the Vice-Chancellor as she did to me, I don’t believe that they will keep her long.  She’ll wear the gaolers out; she will wear the walls out; she will wear ‘it’ down to the bone; and then they will let her loose upon the world again.  Why, there is the bell for lunch, and not a single green fly the less!  Never mind, I will do for them to-morrow.  How it would add to her sufferings in her lonely cell if she could see us going to a tete-a-tete lunch.  Come on, Philip, come quick, or the cutlets will get cold, and I hate cold cutlets.”  And off she tripped, followed by the laughing Philip, who, by the way, was now looking quite handsome again.

Maria Lee was not very pretty at her then age—­just eighteen—­but she was a perfect specimen of a young English country girl; fresh as a rose, and sound as a bell, and endowed besides with a quick wit and a ready sympathy.  She was essentially one of that class of Englishwomen who make the English upper middle class what it is—­one of the finest and soundest in the world.  Philip, following her into the house, thought that she was charming; nor, being a Caresfoot, and therefore having a considerable eye to the main chance, did the fact of her being the heiress to fifteen hundred a year in land detract from her charms.

The cutlets were excellent, and Maria ate three, and was very comical about the departed Grumps; indeed, anybody not acquainted with the circumstances would have gathered that that excellent lady was to be shortly put to the question.  Philip was not quite so merry; he was oppressed both by recollections of what had happened and apprehensions of what might happen.

“What is the matter, Philip?” she asked, when they had left the table to sit under the trees on the lawn.  “I can see that something is the matter.  Tell me all about it, Philip.”

And Philip told her what had happened that morning, laying bare all his heart-aches, and not even concealing his evil deeds.  When he had done, she pondered awhile, tapping her little foot upon the turf.