‘Oh! here’s papa!’ she cried out joyfully, as he rode up to the white paling which separated the trim lawn and trimmer flower-garden from the rough park-like ground in front of the house.

‘Come in—­come here—­through the drawing-room window,’ said Mrs Hamley, raising herself on her elbow.  ’We’ve got a rose-tree to show you that Molly has budded all by herself.  We are both so proud of it.’

So Mr. Gibson rode round to the stables, left his horse there, and made his way through the house to the open-air summer-parlour under the cedar-tree, where there were chairs, a table, books, and tangled work.  Somehow, he rather disliked asking for Molly to prolong her visit; so he determined to swallow his bitter first, and then take the pleasure of the delicious day, the sweet repose, the murmurous, scented air.  Molly stood by him, her hand on his shoulder.  He sate opposite to Mrs. Hamley.

‘I have come here to-day to ask for a favour,’ he began.

‘Granted before you name it.  Am not I a bold woman?’

He smiled and bowed, but went straight on with his speech.

’Miss Eyre, who has been Molly’s—­governess, I suppose I must call her —­for many years, writes to-day to say that one of the little nephews she took with her to Newport while Molly was staying here, has caught the scarlet fever.’

’I guess your request.  I make it before you do.  I beg for dear little Molly to stay on here.  Of course Miss Eyre can’t come back to you; and of course Molly must stay here!’

‘Thank you; thank you very much.  That was my request.’

Molly’s hand stole down to his, and nestled in that firm compact grasp.

’Papa!—­Mrs. Hamley!—­I know you’ll both understand me—­but mayn’t I go home?  I am very very happy here; but—­oh papa!  I think I should like to be at home with you best.’

An uncomfortable suspicion flashed across his mind.  He pulled her round, and looked straight and piercingly into her innocent face.  Her colour came at his unwonted scrutiny, but her sweet eyes were filled with wonder, rather than with any feeling which he dreaded to find.  For an instant he had doubted whether young red-headed Mr Coxe’s love might not have called out a response in his daughter’s breast; but he was quite clear now.

’Molly, you’re rude to begin with.  I don’t know how you’re to make your peace with Mrs. Hamley, I’m sure.  And in the next place, do you think you’re wiser than I am; or that I don’t want you at home, if all other things were conformable?  Stay where you are, and be thankful.’

Molly knew him well enough to be certain that the prolongation of her visit at Hamley was quite a decided affair in his mind; and then she was smitten with a sense of ingratitude.  She left her father, and went to Mrs. Hamley, and bent over and kissed her; but she did not speak.  Mrs. Hamley took hold of her hand, and made room on the sofa for her.