"My dear father, we are fated never to keep bees, but if you have any fancy for the hives—"
"You are a saucy girl; have you written to Palmer?"
"Yes, there it is."
"Excellent. Oh! what does George mean to do about his brown horse?"
"Calypso? He left him here for me to ride during the summer."
"You—ride Calypso—my good child, you will break your neck."
"If you are going to the farm to-day, my dear father, I will prove to you that Calypso can be ridden without such a catastrophe."
"Look here," said her father, taking a letter from a servant, "here are cards for Mrs. Hollingsworth's ball." This was a lady of large fortune in the neighbourhood, whose eldest son was a very persevering admirer of Miss Gage's.
Sir Philip was reading the paper in the window.
"My dear father, I will not go," said Elizabeth in a low but decided tone.