"I am feeling and looking better than when I came over, and Miss Payne has taken such good care of me," said Katherine, who did not like to see the lady of the house so completely over-looked.
"Ah! that's well. You know you are too precious a piece of goods to be tampered with. I believe Bertie Payne is a nephew of yours," he added, addressing Miss Payne—"a young fellow who was in my regiment three or four years ago, the Twenty-first Dragoon Guards?"
"He is my brother," returned Miss Payne, stiffly.
"Ah! Hope he is all right. Have scarcely seen him since he has gone, not to the dogs, but to the saints, which is much the same thing. Ha! ha! ha!"
"Indeed it is not, Colonel Ormonde!" cried Katherine. "If every one was as good as Mr. Payne, the world would be a different and a better place."
"Hey! Have you constituted yourself his champion? Lucky dog! Come, my dear girl, we must be going. Are you well wrapped up? It is deuced cold, and we have nearly three miles to drive from the station."
He himself looked liked a mountain in a huge fur-lined coat.
"Good-by, then, dear Miss Payne. I suppose I shall not see you again for a fortnight or three weeks."
"By George! we sha'n't let you off with so short a visit as that! Say three years. Come, march; we haven't too much time." Throwing a brief "good-morning" at the "old maid" of uncertain position, the Colonel walked heavily downstairs in the wake of his admired young guest.
Monckton was scarcely four hours from London, but when the drive to Castleford was accomplished there was not too much time left to dress for dinner.