He nodded with an air of wisdom as though that decided it, but the girl persisted. "Uncle," she said, drawing closer to him with lithe gracefulness, "I want you to let me have my own way just for once, and if I am wrong, I will never do anything you do not approve of again. After all, it is a very little thing, and you would like to please me."
"It is a trifle that is likely to cost you a good deal of money," said the Colonel dryly.
"I think I could afford it, and you could not refuse me."
"As I am only your uncle, and no longer a trustee, I could not," said Barrington. "Still, you would not act against my wishes?"
His eyes were gentle, unusually so, for he was not as a rule very patient when any one questioned his will, but there was a reproach in them that hurt the girl. Still, because she had promised, she persisted.
"No," she said. "That is why it would be ever so much nicer if you would just think as I did."
Barrington looked at her steadily. "If you insist, I can at least hope for the best," he said, with a gravity that brought a faint color to the listener's cheek.
It was next day when Winston took his leave, and Maud Barrington stood beside him, as he put on his driving furs.
"You told me there was something you wished me to do, and, though it was difficult, it is done," she said. "My holding will be sown with wheat this spring."
Winston turned his head aside a moment, and apparently found it needful to fumble at the fastenings of the furs, while there was a curious expression in his eyes when he looked round again.