‘No sir—­by no means,’ said Mrs. Bywank, earnestly.  ’For if there is anything miss Wych does hate, it is to have a gentleman speak to her about her doings.  When that happens she thinks she’s supposed to have done something dreadful; and it hurts her more than you would guess, sir.  Little child as she was then, she would cry her eyes out over a word from Mr. Kennedy, but her mother might say anything.  And it has always been just so with Mr. Falkirk.  Only Miss Wych never cries for him.  At least nobody ever sees her.’

Now, instead of Mr. Rollo’s being alarmed at this, as another man might, it was answered by a certain humourous play of face; a slight significance of lip and air, quite difficult to characterize.  It was not arrogant, nor arbitrary; I do not know how to call it masterful; and yet certainly it expressed no dismay and no apprehension.  Perhaps it expressed that he intended to be in a different category from other men.  Perhaps he thought Mrs. Bywank meant to read him a cautionary lesson.

‘She is in rather a hard position,’ he said, gravely.  ’I am glad she has got a good friend in you, Mrs. Bywank.  And I am glad I have, too.’

‘Yes, it is hard,’ said the old housekeeper, with a glance at him; ’though it is not to be expected, sir, that you should quite understand it.  But Miss Wych is the lovingest little creature that ever lived, I believe, and as true as the sky.  Why, she could cheat Mr. Falkirk day in and day out if she chose!—­but if ever those young men should get her to ride, against his orders, she would go and tell him of it, the first minute after she got home.’

Rollo did not ask whether they could do this, or had done it.  He went on quietly with his breakfast, only glancing up at Mrs. Bywank to let her see that he was attending to her.

‘So that’s a great safeguard,’ she began again, with a sigh.  ’But I wish Mrs. Coles was back in Chicago!  Miss Fisher was bad enough.  And what the two will do between them—­’

‘What does Miss Fisher do?’

‘It is plain to me,’ said Mrs. Bywank, ’that she wants to pull my young lady down to her way of dress and behaviour; though Miss Wych don’t guess it a bit. That she can never do, of course.  But it is just like Miss Fisher to push where she can’t pull.  Do you understand me, sir?’

‘Quite.’

’So that makes me anxious, sir.  And there are hands enough to help.’

Leaning somewhat towards her young guest, breakfast rather forgotten on both sides, so they sat; when the door opened softly and Wych Hazel came in.  But if the first minute inside the door could have been instantly exchanged for the last one outside, it is probable that the young lady of Chickaree would have disturbed no cabinet council over her that day.  For with the first sight of the very people she expected to find, there rushed over her a horrible fear that Mr. Rollo would think she had come to see him!—­and that Mrs. Bywank would think so—­and (worst of all) that she thought so herself!  But there was no retreating now.  So passing swiftly to the old housekeeper’s chair, and laying both hands on her shoulders to keep her in it, Hazel stooped down to kiss her; and then straightening herself up like a young arrow, she gave from behind Mrs. Bywank a demure good-morning to Mr. Rollo.