"I wish they were all like you," said Tommy, squatting upon the grass at her feet.
Then he remembered a question he had meant to ask her,
"I say, Lady Chantrey, who's living at the Grange?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know, Tommy. I heard that your guardian had let it—it was your father's wish, you know—but I did not know the tenants had arrived."
"Oh, Lady Chantrey, there's a boy there, an' he's such an awful cad."
"Cad?" echoed Lady Chantrey, questioningly.
"He—he isn't one little atom of a gentleman."
"And therefore a cad?"
Tommy coloured.