Remember that now!"
Preston closed one eye deliberately and poked his tongue into his
cheek. "You leave that to me, my good madam. Anythin' of that
sort would be the gift of the bridegroom. See?"
"Oh, quite," said Mrs. Ingleton. "I shall certainly do my best for
you, Mr. Preston."
"Good for you!" said Preston jocularly. "It's a deal then. And
you play every trump you've got!"
"You may depend upon me," said Mrs. Ingleton.
CHAPTER III
THE WHIP-HAND
"Why isn't Mr. Preston engaged to Sylvia?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton
of her husband as she faced him across the breakfast-table on the
following morning.
"He'd like to be," said Ingleton with his face bent over the
morning paper.
"Then why isn't he?" demanded Mrs. Ingleton with asperity. "He is
a rich country gentleman, and he has a position in the County.
What more could you possibly want for her?"
Reluctantly the squire made answer. "Oh, I'm willing enough. He's
quite a decent chap so far as I know. I dare say he'd make her
quite a good husband if she'd have him. But she won't. So there's
an end of that."
"Ridiculous!" exclaimed Mrs. Ingleton. "And, pray, why won't she?"
"Why? Oh, because there's another fellow, of course. There always
is," growled Ingleton. "Girls never fall in love with the right
man. Haven't you found that out yet?"
"I have found out," said Mrs.
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