"Why, of course, there'll be plums for the grandson," said Mr. Boyce
with a sneer. "That goes without saying--though we are such a virtuous
lot."

"Oh yes, he'll get on--everybody says so. And he'll deserve it too!" she
added, her eye kindling combatively as she surveyed her father. "He
takes a lot of trouble down here, about the cottages and the board of
guardians and the farms. The Hardens like him very much, but he is not
exactly popular, according to them. His manners are sometimes shy and
awkward, and the poor people think he's proud."

"Ah! a prig I dare say--like some of his uncles before him," said Mr.
Boyce, irritably. "But he was civil to you, you say?"

And again he turned a quick considering eye on his daughter.

"Oh dear! yes," said Marcella, with a little proud smile. There was a
pause; then she spoke again. "I must go off to the church; the Hardens
have hard work just now with the harvest festival, and I promised to
take them some flowers."

"Well"--said her father, grudgingly, "so long as you don't promise
anything on my account! I tell you, I haven't got sixpence to spend on
subscriptions to anything or anybody. By the way, if you see Reynolds
anywhere about the drive, you can send him to me. He and I are going
round the Home Farm to pick up a few birds if we can, and see what the
coverts look like. The stock has all run down, and the place has been
poached to death. But he thinks if we take on an extra man in the
spring, and spend a little on rearing, we shall do pretty decently next