"What, the Vicar?"
Beatrix laughed, on a thrushlike note of enjoyment. "You know I don't mean the Vicar," she said. "What happens when you and he go off from the tennis lawn together?"
"Oh, you mean Bertie Pemberton," said Mollie, enlightened, but still keeping her eyes on her work. "They are going to give me some plants for the garden, and we have been choosing them. He knows a lot about flowers."
Beatrix laughed again. "Do you like him, Mollie?" she asked.
"Yes, of course I do," said Mollie. "But don't be silly about it, B. Can't a girl like a man without—without——You're just like what you complain about in the Vicar, and think so horrid in him."
"No, I'm not, my dear. The Vicar takes it for granted that he means nothing except just to amuse himself with a pretty girl. I don't think that at all. I know the signs. I've seen more of the world, and of men, than you have, Mollie. I know by the way he looks at you, and by the way he talks about you."
Mollie's face, which she never once raised, was pink. "It's very kind of him to interest himself in me," she said. "What does he say?"
Beatrix laughed again. "You're awfully sweet," she said affectionately. "He thinks you're so much nicer than all the smart young women in London. That was one for me, but I didn't show any offence. I said you were, and as good as gold. That seemed to surprise him rather, and I had to tell him why I thought so. He wanted to hear all about you. I think your ears must have burned. He thinks you're awfully kind. That was his great word for you. You know, I think he's awfully nice, Mollie. All the Pembertons are, when you get down beneath the noise they make. They love their country life, and all the nice things in it."
Mollie raised her eyes at last. "That's what I do like about him," she said, speaking steadily, but with the blush still on her cheeks. "I think I've found out that he really has simple tastes, though I shouldn't have thought it at first. He goes about a lot in London, but he doesn't really care about it. He says he makes a good deal of money, but what is the good of money if you're not living the life you want?"
There was a twinkle in Beatrix's eyes, but she replied gravely: "That's what he told me. He's had enough of it. He'd like himself much better living here on his allowance, and only going to London occasionally. I think if you were to advise him to do that, Mollie, he would."