"Only on Saturdays for certain."
"Very well, then, will you tell Mr. Ward, with my compliments, that unless his house be on fire nothing will induce me to ring his door-bell on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday, unless by special invitation. But on Saturday I will do myself the pleasure of calling."
"Is that a message to father?" asked Mollie, a little puzzled at his tone. But Mr. Ingram only laughed and rose from his chair.
"I am rather a riddle to you, am I not?" he said, taking her soft little hand. And then his manner suddenly changed. "Miss Mollie," he continued, "do you remember the first time I saw you? You were sitting in the ashes, like Cinderella. I have called you Cinderella ever since."
"Oh, not really, Mr. Ingram! But, of course, I remember the day, for I was never so startled in my life. When the door opened I thought it was Ann, and, oh dear, how frightened I was for a moment!"
"It was like a picture," went on Ingram, and his eyes looked grave and intent. "The kitchen was a little dark, but a ray of sunshine was full on your face, and you were singing. Do you remember, Miss Mollie?" And Mollie hung her head, as though she were rather ashamed of herself.
"Oh, yes, that old song of father's." And then, rather pettishly, "But I don't want to remember that."
"I shall never forget it. I wish I were the Fairy Godmother instead of Monsieur Blackie. And then there is the Prince. What are we to do about the Prince, Miss Mollie?"
"Oh, I don't know," murmured Mollie, confusedly; for Mr. Ingram's manner was rather baffling that afternoon. But how amused he would be if he knew that Waveney often called him the Black Prince. "There never are princes in real life," she finished, demurely.
"Oh, I would not be too sure of that," he returned, coolly. "Life is full of surprises. Why, I heard of a fellow last year—he was only a dairy-man, and a rich uncle who had made his pile in Chicago, and was a millionaire, died, and left him all his money. He told me in confidence that for the first month he was nearly out of his mind with worry, for he and his wife had not a notion what to do with it. I gave him a lot of advice. I told him to give his children the best education possible, and to live comfortably without trying for grandeur; and he was a sensible fellow, and followed my advice. He has a good house, and a model farm, and his breed of Alderney cows is the finest in the country; and I have a great respect for him and his wife, and often go and see them."