'We might. Then I am to understand you do not like the promise of things at Chickaree?'
'What do you take to be the promise of things here, at present, Mr.
Falkirk?'
'Quite beside the question, Miss Hazel. Am I to tell this man you don't want the house in Fiftieth street?'
'I should prefer another house, I think,' said Hazel gravely. 'Mr. Falkirk, I had a letter from Kitty Fisher this morning, and she sends you her love.'
Mr. Falkirk gave an inarticulate grumble.
'You may throw it back to her, my dear; her own love is all she cares about; and as I don't care about it, we are suited. Do I understand that you wish me to look for another house, then?'
'I did hint at Europe,'said Wych Hazel. 'But if it amuses you to look for houses, sir, I have no sort of objection.'
Mr. Falkirk laid down his knife and fork, and looked across the table.
'It don't amuse me to look for anything in a fog, my dear. Do you want to go to Europe?'
'O well, we need not go this week, sir! Shall I invite all the neighbourhood to a grand chestnutting, when Kitty Fisher comes?'