And so it was no wonder that I frequently found my way to Wilmot House alone.  There I often stayed the whole day long, romping with Dolly at games of our own invention, and many the time I was sent home after dark by Mrs. Manners with Jim, the groom.  About once in the week Mr. and Mrs. Manners would bring Dorothy over for dinner or tea at the Hall.  She grew quickly—­so quickly that I scarce realized—­into a tall slip of a girl, who could be wilful and cruel, laughing or forgiving, shy or impudent, in a breath.  She had as many moods as the sea.  I have heard her entertain Mr. Lloyd and Mr. Bordley and the ladies, and my grandfather, by the hour, while I sat by silent and miserable, but proud of her all the same.  Boylike, I had grown to think of her as my possession, tho’ she gave me no reason whatever.  I believe I had held my hand over fire for her, at a word.  And, indeed, I did many of her biddings to make me wonder, now, that I was not killed.  It used to please her, Ivie too, to see me go the round of the windmill, tho’ she would cry out after I left the ground.  And once, when it was turning faster than common and Ivie not there to prevent, I near lost my hold at the top, and was thrown at the bottom with such force that I lay stunned for a full minute.  I opened my eyes to find her bending over me with such a look of fright and remorse upon her face as I shall never forget.  Again, walking out on the bowsprit of the ‘Oriole’ while she stood watching me from the dock, I lost my balance and fell into the water.  On another occasion I fought Will Fotheringay, whose parents had come for a visit, because he dared say he would marry her.

“She is to marry an earl,” I cried, tho’ I had thrashed another lad for saying so.  “Mr. Manners is to take her home when she is grown, to marry her to an earl.”

“At least she will not marry you, Master Richard,” sneered Will.  And then I hit him.

Indeed, even at that early day the girl’s beauty was enough to make her talked about.  And that foolish little fop, her father, had more than once declared before a company in our dining room that it was high time another title came into his family, and that he meant to take Dolly abroad when she was sixteen.  Lad that I was, I would mark with pain the blush on Mrs. Manners’s cheek, and clinch my fists as she tried to pass this off as a joke of her husband’s.  But Dolly, who sat next me at a side table, would make a wry little face at my angry one.

“You shall call me ‘my lady,’ Richard.  And sometimes, if you are good, you shall ride inside my coroneted coach when you come home.”