The Real Charlotte. 195 



love-making, as in most other things, would pursue methods 

 unknown to her. 



At this point in her reflections, congratulation began to 

 wane. She thought she knew every twist and turn in 

 Roddy Lambert, but lately she had not been able to explain 

 him at all to her satisfaction. He was always coming to 

 Tally Ho, and he always seemed in a bad temper when he 

 was there ; in fact she had never known him as ill-mannered 

 as he was last week, one day when he and Christopher were 

 there together, and she had tried, for various excellent 

 reasons, to get him off into the dining-room to talk business. 

 She couldn't honestly say that Francie was running after 

 him, though of course she had that nasty flirty way with 

 every man, old or young, married or single ; but all the 

 same, there was something in it she didn't like. The girl 

 was more trouble than she was worth ; and if it wasn't for 

 Christopher Dysart she'd have sent her packing back to 

 Letitia Fitzpatrick, and told her that whether she could 

 manage it or not she must keep her. But of course to have 

 Sir Christopher Dysart of Bruff— she rolled the title on her 

 tongue — as a cousin was worthy of patience. 



As she walked up the trim Rosemount avenue she spied 

 the owner of the house lying in a basket-chair in the shade, 

 with a pipe in his mouth, and in his hand that journal 

 politely described by Mrs. Rattray as the " the Pink One." 



" Hallo, Charlotte ! " he said lazily, glancing up at her 

 from under the peak of his cap, " you look warm." 



" And you look what you are, and that's cool, in manners 

 and body," retorted Miss Mullen, coming and standing 

 beside him, "and if you had tramped on your four bones 

 through the dust, maybe you'd be as hot as I am." 



*' What do you wear that thick coat for ? " he said, look- 

 ing at it with a disfavour that he took no trouble to 

 hide. 



Charlotte became rather red. She had the Irish peasant- 

 woman's love of heavy clothing and dislike of abating any 

 item of it in summer. 



" If you had my tendency to bronchitis, me fine fellow/^ 

 she said, seating herself on the uncomfortable garden bench 

 beside which his chair had been placed, " you'd think more 

 of your health than your appearance." 



