“How about the Stanleys?” I asked.  “They will be here this afternoon.”

“That’s the devil’s finger in the matter,” cried Sir George.  “That’s where my dilemma lies.  How shall I put them off, and still retain them in case nothing should come from Leicester?  Besides, I am in honor bound to the earl.”

“I have a plan,” I replied.  “You carry out your part of the agreement with the earl, but let Dorothy, at the last moment, refuse to give her consent.  Let her ask for more time, on the plea that she does not know her mind.  I will suggest to her, if you wish, the part she is to play; but I will conceal from her the fact that you are a party to it.”

“No,” said the old man, “that would be bad faith toward the earl.”  After a pause he continued doubtingly:  “No, do not speak to Doll.  I believe she needs no suggestions in the matter.  I fear that mischief is in her mind already.  Her easy acquiescence in my wishes have of late had a suspicious appearance.  No, don’t speak to her, Malcolm.  If ever there lived a girl who could be perverse and wilful on her own account, without help from any one, it is my girl Doll.  God bless you, man, if she but knew that I wanted her to reject Stanley, she would have him in spite of hell itself.  I wonder what she means by her docility and obedience?  No, don’t speak a word to her on the subject.  Let her believe I am serious regarding this marriage, and she will have some plan of her own to raise the devil.  I have been expecting signs of it every day.  I had determined not to bear with her perversity, but now that the Leicester possibility has come up we’ll leave Doll to work out her own salvation, Malcolm.  Don’t interfere.  No man living can teach that girl a new trick in deviltry.  Gods, Malcolm!  I am curious to know what she will be doing, for she certainly will be doing something rather than sign that contract of betrothal.”

“But suppose out of obedience to you she should sign the contract?” I asked.

“Malcolm, you don’t know Doll,” he replied.  Then, after a pause, “Neither do I. I wish she were well married.”

When I left Sir George, I found Dorothy in close consultation with the queen and two of her ladies.  I heard the name of Lord James Stanley spoken amid suppressed laughter, and I suspected Dorothy had on foot some prank touching that young man, to which her Majesty was a party.

After dinner the Stanleys came a-wooing.  The party consisted of father, son, and four retainers, who looked as if they had been preserved in alcohol for the occasion, so red were their faces.