"Oh, Phil, Phil! I wish you could understand."
"Well, well, I'll let the old girl alone." And then came the point at which Phil improved so much. "Tell me what you've been reading last," he said. "I should like to know what you are thinking about, even if I don't understand it myself. I say, Nell, who do you think that can be dashing so fast along the road?"
"It is the people at Reddown," she said. "I know their white horses. They always dash along as if they were in the greatest hurry. Do you really want to know what I have been reading, Phil? though it is very little, I fear, because of the dressmakers and—all the other things."
"You see," he said, "when you have lots to do you can't keep up with your books: which is the reason why I never pretend to read—I have no time."
"You might find a little time. I have seen you look very much bored, and complain that there was nothing to do."
"Never when you were there, Nell, that I'll answer for—but of course there are times when a fellow isn't doing anything much. What would you have me read? There's always the Sporting and Dramatic, you know, the Pink 'un, and a few more."
"Oh, Phil! you don't call them literature, I hope."
"I don't know much about what you call literature. There's Ruff, and Hoyle, and—I say, Nell, there's a dog-cart going a pace! Who can that be, do you suppose?"
"I don't know all the dog-carts about. I should think it was some one coming from the station."
"Oh!" he said, and made a long pause. "Driving like that, if they don't break their necks, they should be here in ten minutes or so."
"Oh, not for twice that time—the road makes such a round—but there is no reason to suppose that any dog-cart from the station should be coming here."
"Well, to return to the literature, as you call it. I suppose I shall have to get a lot of books for you to keep you amused—eh, Nell? even in the honeymoon."
"We shall not have time to read very much if we are moving about all the time."
"Not me, but you. I know what you'll do. You'll go and leave me planted, and run up-stairs to read your book. I've seen the Jew do it with some of her confounded novels that she's always wanting to turn over to me."
"But there are some novels that you would like to read, Phil."
"Not a bit. Why, Nell, I know far better stories of fellows in our own set than any novel these writing men ever can put on paper: fellows, and women, too—stories that would make your hair stand on end, and that would make you die with laughing. You can't think what lots I know. That cart would have been here by this time if it had been coming here, eh?"
"Oh, no, not yet—the road makes such a long round. Do you expect any one, Phil?"
"I don't quite know; there's something on at that confounded office of ours; everything, you know, has gone to smash. I didn't think it well to say too much to the old lady last night. There's been a regular row, and the manager's absconded, and all turns on whether they can find some books. I shouldn't wonder if one of the fellows came down here, if they find out where I am. I say, Nell, mind you back me up whatever I say."
"But I can't possibly know anything about it," said Elinor, astonished.
"Never mind—about dates and that—if you don't stand by me, there may be a fuss, and the wedding delayed. Remember that, my pet, the wedding delayed—that's what I want to avoid. Now, come, Nell, let's have another go about the books. All English, mind you. I won't buy you any of the French rot. They're too spicy for a little girl like you."
"I don't know what you mean, Phil. I hope you don't think that I read nothing but novels," Elinor said.
"Nothing but novels! Oh, if you go in for mathematics and that sort of thing, Nell! the novels are too deep for me. Don't say poetry, if you love me. I could stand most things from you, Nell, you little darling—but, Nell, if you come spouting verses all the time——"
His look of horror made Elinor laugh. "You need not be afraid. I never spout verses," she said.
"Come along this way a little, where we can see the road. All women seem to like poetry. There's a few fellows I don't mind myself. Ingoldsby, now that's something fine. We had him at school, and perhaps it was the contrast from one's lessons. Do you know Ingoldsby, Nell?"
"A—little—I have read some——"
"Ah, you like the sentimental best. There's Whyte Melville, then, there's always something melancholy about him—'When the old horse died,' and that sort of thing—makes you cry, don't you know. You all like that. Certainly, if that dog-cart had been coming here it must have come by this time."
"Yes, it must have come," Elinor admitted, with a little wonder at the importance which he gave to this possible incident. "But there is another train at two if you are very anxious to see this man."
"Oh, I'm not anxious to see him," said Mr. Compton, with a laugh, "but probably he will want to see me. No, Nell, you will not expect me to read poetry to you while we're away. There's quite a library at Lomond's place. You can amuse yourself there when I'm shooting; not that I shall shoot much, or anything that takes me away from my Nell. But you must come out with us. There is no such fun as stumping over the moors—the Jew has got all the turn-out for that sort of thing—short frocks and knickerbockers, and a duck of a little breech-loader. She thinks she's a great shot, poor thing, and men are civil and let her imagine that she's knocked over a pheasant or a hare, now and then. As for the partridges, she lets fly, of course, but to say she hits anything——"
"I should not want to hit anything," said Elinor. "Oh, please Phil! I will try anything else you like, but don't make me shoot."
"You little humbug! See what you'll say when you get quite clear of the old lady. But I don't want you to shoot, Nell. If you don't get tired sitting at home, with all of us out on the hill, I like to come in for my part and find a little duck all tidy, not blowzy and blown about by the wind, like the Jew with her ridiculous bag, that all the fellows snigger at behind her back."
"You should not let any fellow laugh at your sister, Phil——"
"Oh, as for that! they are all as thick with her as I am, and why should I interfere? But I promise you nobody shall cut a joke upon my Nell."
"I should hope not, indeed," said Elinor, indignant; "but as for your 'fellows,' Phil, as you call them, you mustn't be angry with me, but I don't much like those gentlemen; they are a little rude and rough. They shall not call me by my Christian name, or anything but my own formal——"
"Mrs. Compton," he said, seizing her in his arms, "you little duck! they'll be as frightened of you as if you were fifty. But you mustn't spoil good company, Nell. I shall like you to keep them at a distance, but you mustn't go too far; and, above all, my pet, you mustn't put out the Jew. I calculate on being a lot there; they have a nice house and a good table, and all that, and Prestwich is glad of somebody to help about his horses. You mustn't set up any of your airs with the Jew."
"I don't know what you mean by my airs, Phil."
"Oh, but I do, and they're delicious, Nell: half like a little girl and half like a queen: but it will never do to make the Jew feel small in her own set. Hallo! there's some one tumbling alone over the stones on that precious road of yours. I believe it's that cart from the station after all."
"No," said Elinor, "it is only one of the tradespeople. You certainly are anxious about those carts from the station, Phil."
"Not a bit!" he said, and then, after a moment, he added, "Yes, on the whole, I'd much rather the man came, if he's coming while I'm here, and while you are with me, Nell; for I want you to stick to me, and back me up. They might think I ought to go after that manager fellow and spoil the wedding. Therefore mind you back me up."
"I can't think, dear Phil, what there is for me to do. I