“His brother and sister call him—­Stumpy,” she said, “because he is little and he limps.  But I—­” her face was as red as the hunting-coat against which it nestled—­“I called him—­Mr. Greatheart.  He is—­just like that.”

Mr. Bathurst laughed again, tweaking her ear.  “Altogether an extraordinary family!” he commented.  “I must meet this Mr. Stumpy Greatheart.  Now suppose you run upstairs and turn on the hot water.  And when you’ve done that, you can take my boots down to the kitchen to dry.  And mind you don’t fall foul of your mother, for she strikes me as being a bit on the ramp tonight!”

He kissed her again, and she clung to him very fast for a moment or two, tasting in that casual, kindly embrace all the home joy she had ever known.

Then, hearing her mother’s step, she swiftly and guiltily disengaged herself and fled up the stairs like a startled bird.  As she prepared his bath for him, the wayward thought came to her that if only he and she had lived alone together, she would never have wanted to get married at all—­even for the delight of being Lady Studley instead of “poor little Dinah Bathurst!”

CHAPTER II

WEDDING ARRANGEMENTS

It was certainly not love at first sight that prompted Mrs. Bathurst to take a fancy to Isabel Everard.

Secretly Dinah had dreaded their meeting, fearing that innate antagonism which her mother invariably seemed to cherish against the upper class.  But within a quarter of an hour of their meeting she was aware of a change of attitude, a quenching of the hostile element, a curious and wholly new sensation of peace.

For though Isabel’s regal carriage and low, musical voice, marked her as one of the hated species, her gentleness banished all impression of pride.  She treated Dinah’s mother with an assumption of friendliness that had in it no trace of condescension, and she was so obviously sincere in her wish to establish a cordial relation that it was impossible to remain ungracious.

“I can’t feel that we are strangers,” she said, with her rare smile when Dinah had departed to fetch the tea.  “Your little Dinah has done so much for me—­more than I can ever tell you.  That I am to have her for a sister seems almost too good to be true.”

“I wonder you think she’s good enough,” remarked Mrs. Bathurst in her blunt way.  “She isn’t much to look at.  I’ve done my best to bring her up well, but I never thought of her turning into a fine lady.  I question if she’s fit for it.”

“If she were a fine lady, I don’t think I should think so highly of her,” Isabel said gently.  “But as to her being unfit to fill a high position, she is only inexperienced and she will learn very quickly.  I am willing to teach her all in my power.”

“Aye, learn to despise her mother,” commented Mrs. Bathurst, with sudden bitterness, “after all the trouble I’ve taken to make her respect me.”