“Estate agents,” Henry said, “have cast a permanent opprobrium on the word ‘home.’ It has come to mean nothing. It is a pity that when I marry, Cousin Eleanor, I shall not be able to take my wife to Winton. I can’t afford to mend the roof, you know.”

Jocelyn cleared his throat, darted an angry glance at his son, and returned to the window.

“Winton is the dower-house, of course,” murmured Miss Prentice.

“As you already know,” Henry continued, “I have begun to pay my addresses to Dinah Copeland. From what you overheard at the rectory do you think it likely that she will accept me?”

He saw her eyes narrow but she smiled a little more widely, showing her prominent and unlovely teeth. “She’s like a French Caricature of an English spinster,” thought Henry.

“I’m quite sure, dear,” said Miss Prentice, “that you do not think I willingly overheard your little talk with Dinah. Far from it. I was very distressed when I caught the few words that — ”

“That you repeated to father? I’m sure you were.”

“I thought it my duty to speak to your father, Henry.”

“Why?”

“Because I think, dear, that you two young people are in need of a little wise guidance.”

“Do you like Dinah?” asked Henry abruptly.

“She has many excellent qualities, I am sure,” said Miss Prentice.

“I asked you if you liked her, Cousin Eleanor.”

“I like her for those qualities. I am afraid, dear, that I think it better not to go any further just at the moment.”

“I agree,” said Jocelyn from the window. “Henry, I won’t have any more of this. These people will be here in a moment. There’s the rectory car, now, coming round Cloudyfold bend. They’ll be here in five minutes. You’d better tell us what it’s all about, Eleanon”

Miss Prentice seated herself at the foot of the table.