"You mean that it would look shabby. You see we womankind never
quite know the code of the world on such matters," she said,
candidly.

"There is something that makes codes unnecessary, Bessie," he said.

"Ah! I can make allowances. It is a cruel stroke. I don't wonder
you can't bear to see any one else on her palfrey; above all as a
sacrifice to the landscape painter."

"Then spare my feelings, and send the mare to Bishopsworthy," said
Alick, as usual too careless of the imputation to take the trouble to
rebut it or to be disconcerted.

Bessie was much tickled at his acceptance, and laughed heartily.

"To be sure," she said, "it is past concealment now. You must have
been very far gone, indeed, to have been taken in to suppose me to be
making capital of her 'charitable purposes.'"

"Your acting is too like life," he said, not yet induced to laugh,
and she rattled on with her droll, sham sentimental air. "Is it the
long words, Alick, or is it 'the great eyes, my dear;' or is it--oh,
yes, I know what is the great attraction--that the Homestead doesn't
possess a single spot where one could play at croquet!"

"Quite irresistible!" replied Alick, and Bessie retreated from the
colloquy still not laughing at but with him; that is, if the odd,
quaint, inward mirth which only visibly lengthened his sleepy eyes,
could be called a laugh.