"It's this," responded Helps, "I want to know the name of the fellow—yes, the—the fellow, who saw you home just now?"
"Now, father, mightn't he be Mr. Gray, or Mr. Jones, or Mr. Abbott; some of those nice young men you bring up now and then from the city? Why mightn't he be one of them, father?"
"But he wasn't, my dear. The young men you speak of are honest lads, every one of them. I wouldn't have no sort of objection to your walking with them, Esther. It wasn't none of my friends from the city I saw you with to-night. Essie."
"And why shouldn't this be an honest fellow, too?" answered Esther, her eyes sparkling dangerously.
"I don't know, my dear. I didn't like the looks of him. What's his name, Essie, my love?"
"Captain Herriot, of the —— Hussars."
"There! Esther, you're not to walk with Captain Herriot any more. You're not to know him. I won't have it—so now."
"Highty-tighty!" said Esther. "There are two to say a word to that bargain, father. And pray, why may I walk with Mr. Jones and not with Captain Herriot? Captain Herriot's a real gentleman, and Mr. Jones ain't."
"And that's the reason, my child. If Jones walked with you, he'd maybe—yes, I'm sure of it—he'd want all his heart and soul to make you his honest wife some day. Do you suppose Captain Herriot wants to make you his wife. Essie?"
"I don't say. I won't be questioned like that." Her whole pale face was in a flame. "Maybe we never thought of such a thing, but just to be friends, and to have a pleasant time. It's cruel of you to talk like that, father."