warrior to the tender mercies of Mrs. Lister. Very tender they will be too, as she wants him for a son-in-law. "How crestfallen he does look, to be sure! And he is considered to have more brass than any other man in his regiment." . . .
"He is quickly routed, then; but it is impossible for a man to be rude to a lady, is it not?"
"Quite."
"Are fathers generally polite to their families?"
"If they are gentlemen."
"Oh!"
"I want to know," says Mr. Vasher, looking down on my tumbled bonnet, "what I am to call you. I won't call you Miss Adair; I don't like Helen. May I call you Nell?"
"Oh, no. What would Milly say? Besides, I was young when you use to call me that; I am grown up now."
"And no longer young?"
"Oh, yes; pretty well. When we have known each other a little longer, you know———"
"Yes, we shall be near neighbours," he says, with quite a sudden gladness in his voice; we shall have plenty of time for getting to know each other better."
"I do not improve on acquaintance," I say, smiling. "Oh, you will find me out to be such a little wretch. If you saw me in a rage once, you would not forget it."
"Who puts you out?"
"Dorley, or Basan, or—or—another person."
"And supposing I do?"
"You will be frightened."
"I am not afraid," he says, looking deep into my laughing face with his brown, brown eyes, that are self-willed and strong and tender at one and the same time. "Did any one ever keep you in order, Nell?"
