"I am sorry for that, Mistress Dyke. You will join us, Mr. Moore?"
"I never drink, Sir Percival," replied Moore, endeavoring to look virtuous without much success.
"Indeed?" said the baronet. "You had better begin, sir. Then perhaps you would write less poetry."
Moore failed to find a suitable retort, and therefore mounted the little platform on which stood the blackboard, as Mr. Dyke, Lord Brooking, and Farrell moved towards the door.
"Mistress Dyke," said Sir Percival, "if you can spare a thought this afternoon, perhaps you will oblige me by reconsidering your decision in regard to London?"
"I have quite made up my mind, thank you," answered Bessie, dusting off her desk with her apron. "Simple country folk would be out of place in so great a city."
"Brains and beauty are made welcome everywhere," answered the baronet. "Moreover, it is a woman's privilege to change her mind."
"Will you be long, my daughter?" asked Mr. Dyke, turning at the door.
"Not very long, father," she answered, demurely. "The--the arithmetic is very difficult for to-morrow, and I must be prepared for the lesson."
Moore helped himself to a piece of chalk, and began figuring on the blackboard.