“Mammas and elder sisters are at a discount with you, are not they?” said Mrs. Duncombe.

“Our young women are sufficient to protect themselves without our showing tacit distrust, and encumbering them with guardianship,” returned the Professor.

“Mr. Charnock wishes we had reached that point,” said Lady Tyrrell.

She had put him completely out of countenance.  He had not supposed her aware of his having been Lenore’s companion, and was not certain whether her sister had not after all confided in her, or if he himself had not been an unconscious victim.  The public banter jarred upon him; and while Cecil was making inquiries into the extent of the young ladies’ privileges in America, he was mentally calculating the possibilities of rushing up to Sirenwood, trying to see Lenore in spite of her throat, and ascertaining her position, before his train was due; but he was forced to resign the notion, for Raymond had made an appointment for him in London which must not be missed; and before luncheon was over the dog-cart, according to agreement with Charlie, called for him.

“Good-bye, Mr. Frank,” said Mrs. Duncombe; “will you have an old shoe thrown after you for luck?”

“The time is not come for that yet,” said Cecil, gravely.

“Tending in that direction.  Eh, Charnock?” said the Captain.  “Here’s to your success—­now, and in what’s to come!”

“Thank you, Captain,” said Frank, shaking his hand, liking the hearty voice.  “Lady Tyrrell, won’t you give me your good wishes?” he asked, half diffidently.

“For the examination—­yes, certainly,” she replied.  “It is safer not to look too far into your wishing-well.”

“And—­and will you give my—­my best regards to Le—­to Miss Vivian, and say I grieve for her cold, and trust to her—­to her good wishes—­ " he uttered, quick and fast, holding her hand all the time.

“Yes, yes,” she said quickly; “but last messages won’t do when trains are due.”

“Not due yet,” said Frank; “but I must go home.  I’ve not seen my mother to-day, and I shall not have a moment.—­Good-bye, Cecil; have you any commands for Raymond?”

“No, thank you,” said Cecil, gravely; and with a bow to the Americans, he was gone.

“That is one of your products of the highest English refinement?” said Mrs. Tallboys, whom in his preoccupation he had scarcely noticed.

“How does he strike you?” said Cecil.  “He is my brother-in-law, but never mind that.”

“He looks fitted for the hero of a vapid English novel.  I long to force him to rough it, and to rub off that exquisite do-nothing air.  It irritates me!”

“Frank Charnock has done a good deal of hard work, and is not to lead the life of an idle man,” said Captain Duncombe.  “I know I should not like to be in his shoes if he succeeds—­grinding away in an office ten months out of the twelve.”

“In an office!  I should like to set him to work with an axe!”