nephew; angry, for the first time in his life, with Aggie herself.

"You are growing a downright little flirt, Miss Aggie," he said one
day, when the girl came in from the garden, where she had been laughing
and chatting with her cousin.

He had intended to speak playfully, but there was an earnestness in his
tone which the girl, at once, detected.

"Are you really in earnest, grampa?" she asked, for she still retained
the childish name for her grandfather--so distinguishing him from the
squire, whom she always called grandpapa.

"No; I don't know that I am in earnest, Aggie," he said, trying to
speak lightly; "and yet, perhaps, to some extent I am."

"I am sure you are," the girl said. "Oh, grampa! You are not really
cross with me, are you?" and the tears at once sprang into her eyes. "I
have not been doing anything wrong, have I?"

"No, my dear, not in the least wrong," her grandfather said hastily.
"Still, you know, I don't like seeing Jim, who has always been so good
and kind to you, quite neglected, now this young fellow, who is not fit
to hold a candle to him, has turned up."

"Well, I haven't neglected him, grampa. He has neglected me. He has
never been near since that first day, and you know I can't very well go
round to Sidmouth, and say to him, 'Please come up to the Hall.'"

"No, my dear, I know you can't, and he is behaving like a young fool."