"Go! say something smart to her at once ... talk about your gray mare
... she is over fond of horses ..."

Then as the young Squire, awkward and clumsy in his manner, more
accustomed to the company of his own servants than to that of highborn
ladies, made sundry unfortunate attempts to enchain the attention of the
heiress, his worthy mother turned with meek benignity to Sir Marmaduke.

"A veritable infatuation, good Sir Marmaduke," she said with a sigh,
"quite against my interests, you know. I had no thought to see the dear
lad married so soon, nor to give up my home at the Dene yet, in favor of
a new mistress. Not but that Oliver is not a good son to his
mother--such a good lad!--and such a good husband he would be to any
girl who ..."

"A strange youth that secretary of yours, Sir Marmaduke," here
interposed Dame Harrison in her loud, dictatorial voice, breaking in on
Mistress Pyncheon's dithyrambs, "modest he appears to be, and silent
too: a paragon meseems!"

She spoke with obvious sarcasm, casting covert glances at Lady Sue to
see if she heard.

Sir Marmaduke shrugged his shoulders.

"Lambert is very industrious," he said curtly.

"I thought secretaries never did anything but suck the ends of their
pens," suggested Mistress Pyncheon mildly.