Sir Eustace frowned.  “I never give a light sentence for poaching.  He’s always at it, I’d give him the cat if I could.”

Scott raised his shoulders slightly.  “Well, don’t ask me to say that to Mr. Grey!  He’s taking the whole business badly to heart, as he was beginning to look on Jelf as a reformed character.”

“I’ll reform him!” said Sir Eustace.  He turned to the servant.  “Ask Mr. Grey to join us here!”

“You had better see him alone first,” said Scott.

“Why?” His brother turned upon him almost savagely.

Scott took up his tea-cup.  “You can’t refuse to give him a hearing,” he observed.  “He has come up on purpose.”

Sir Eustace murmured something under his breath and rose.  His look fell upon Dinah.  “It’s the village padre,” he said.  “I shall have to bring him in here.  I hope you don’t mind?”

She gave him a quick, half-startled smile.  “Of course not.”

He turned to the door which the waiting servant was holding open, and strode out with annoyed majesty.

Dinah watched him till the door closed; then very suddenly and urgently she turned to Scott.

“Oh, please, will you help me?” she said.

He gave her a straight, keen look that seemed to penetrate to her soul.  “If it lies in my power,” he said slowly.

She caught her breath, pierced by a sharp uncertainty.  “You can.  I’m sure you can,” she said.

He set down his cup.  “Dinah,” he said gently, “don’t ask me to interfere in your affairs if you can by any means manage without!”

“But that’s just it!” she said in distress.  “I can’t.”

He leaned forward.  “My dear, don’t be agitated!” he said.  “Tell me what is the matter!”

Dinah leaned forward also, her hands tightly clasped, and spoke in a rapid whisper.

“Scott, Eustace wants me to go for an all-day picnic alone with him to-morrow.  I—­don’t want to go.”

He was still looking at her with that straight, almost stern regard.  An odd little quiver went through her as she met it.  She felt as if she were in a fashion on her trial.

“Why don’t you want to go?” he asked.

She hesitated.  “I was to have gone up to town with Isabel to shop,” she said.

“No, that isn’t the reason,” he said.  “Tell me the reason!”

She made a quick gesture of appeal.  “I—­wish you wouldn’t ask,” she faltered, and suddenly she could meet his eyes no longer.  She lowered her own, and sat before him in burning confusion.

“Have you asked yourself?” he said, his voice very low.

She was silent; the quiet question seemed to probe her through and through.  There was no evading it.

Scott was still watching her very closely, very intently.  He spoke at length, just as she was beginning to feel his scrutiny to be more than she could bear.

“If you are just shy with him—­as I think you are—­I think you ought to try and get over it, as much for his sake as for your own.  You don’t want to hurt him, do you?  You wouldn’t like him to be disappointed?”