“I believe so. But I don’t know, and I don’t much care. They don’t take kindly to me,” continued Cynthia, “and so I suppose I’m not generous enough to take kindly to them.”

“I should have thought that such a very unusual blot in their discrimination would have interested you in them as extraordinary people,” said Osborne, with a little air of conscious gallantry.

“Isn’t that a compliment?” said Cynthia, after a pause of mock meditation. “If any one pays me a compliment, please let it be short and clear! I’m very stupid at finding out hidden meanings.”

“Then such speeches as ‘you are very pretty,’ or ‘you have charming manners,’ are what you prefer. Now, I pique myself on wrapping up my sugar-plums delicately.”

“Then would you please to write them down, and at my leisure I’ll parse them.”

“No! It would be too much trouble. I’ll meet you halfway, and study clearness next time.”

“What are you two talking about?” said Molly, resting on her light spade.

“It’s only a discussion on the best way of administering compliments,” said Cynthia, taking up her flower- basket again, but not going out of the reach of the conversation.

“I don’t like them at all in any way,” said Molly. “But, perhaps, it’s rather sour grapes with me,” she added.

“Nonsense!” said Osborne. “Shall I tell you what I heard of you at the ball?”

“Or shall I provoke Mr. Preston,” said Cynthia, “to begin upon you? It’s like turning a tap, such a stream of pretty speeches flows out at the moment.” Her lip curled with scorn.

“For you, perhaps,” said Molly; “but not for me.”

“For any woman. It’s his notion of making himself agreeable. If you dare me, Molly, I’ll try the experiment, and you’ll see with what success.”

“No, don’t, pray!” said Molly, in a hurry. “I do so dislike him!”

“Why?” said Osborne, roused to a little curiosity by her vehemence.

“Oh! I don’t know. He never seems to know what one is feeling.”

“He wouldn’t care, if he did know,” said Cynthia. “And he might know he is not wanted.”

“If he chooses to stay, he cares little whether he is wanted or not.”

“Come, this is very interesting,” said Osborne. “It is like the strophe and anti-strophe in a Greek chorus. Pray, go on.”

“Don’t you know him?” asked Molly.

“Yes, by sight, and I think we were once introduced. But, you know, we are much farther from Ashcombe, at Hamley, than you are here, at Hollingford.”

“Oh, but he’s coming to take Mr. Sheepshanks’ place; and then he’ll live here altogether,” said Molly.

“Molly! who told you that?” said Cynthia, in quite a different tone of voice from that in which she had been speaking hitherto.