does that mean?"
"It means," said Beryl seriously, "that Amy will experience many difficulties before she marries and is in danger of failing to find true love there."
Harry glanced into the cup again and then surrendered it to Amy. "I hope I do not offend, ladies, but I don't think that is a good prediction of Miss Amy's future at all." It was time for them to take their leave, and with some reluctance he led the way.
As they rode off he turned to Chart. "Well?"
Chart shrugged. "I don't know. She seems charming enough. I suppose you could do worse. I suspect she'll want you to lay out a lot of blunt on the place."
"My father won't mind helping them out, providing some comforts. As to the estate, we'll have to see if there's anything to save. They seem to be in desperate straights."
They discussed estate management on the way back in a competent manner which would have surprised and delighted their parents.
Back at Hume House, Harry announced his intention of asking Amy de Lacy to marry him as soon as it seemed appropriate, and was pleased to find that no one had any objection to raise.
Amy tried to put Harry Crisp out of her mind, which wasn't easy when Beryl and Lizzie dwelt on the visit all the time. Jassy, returning from yet another visit to Amabelle's, was put out to find she had missed the beaux, and so she stayed at home the next day.
"They won't call again," said Amy.
"Who?" asked Jassy innocently.
"The king and queen," Amy retorted. "But if you think we might have visitors, make yourself useful and dust the drawing room."
Aunt Lizzie, she noticed, was polishing the tiles in the front hall, and Beryl had gone out to look for flowers - both in their best gowns. Amy shook her head and went off in her workaday brown bombazine to take the kitchen scraps to the pig.
This was her latest project. After all, most of the tenants had a pig. Augustus would survive almost entirely on scraps and then, come winter, provide bacon, ham, and sausage.
As she tipped out the bucket for the eager fellow with his comical flapping ears, Amy wished Jassy hadn't christened him. She scratched him behind one ear as he snuffled around for the choice bits. "How are you, then, Augustus?" she asked. "That's right. Eat up. I don't suppose it will help when the time comes, but I'll make sure you're as happy as possible until then."
Augustus looked up and gave a strange little snort of disbelief. "Oh dear," said Amy.
"Do you always talk to the livestock?"
She whirled around to find herself face to face with Harry Crisp. "What on earth are you doing, creeping up on me like that!"
He looked down at his top boots. "I don't think it's possible to creep in boots on a gravel path, Miss de Lacy. I think it was more a case of you being enthralled by your companion."
"Nonsense," said Amy, face flaming. "I was merely feeding him. Fattening him up. They... er... feed better when talked to."
Harry looked over the sty wall. "He seems to be eating well still."
"Because of the sound of human voices," said Amy triumphantly.
Harry leaned against the wall and grinned at her. "Then I suppose it is our duty to stay here and talk."
Amy picked up the bucket. "I have work to do."
He took the bucket from her and held her hand. "The lowest laborer is entitled to a rest." He looked over the sty wall again. "I see you were correct. The poor pig has stopped eating. We must talk more."
Amy looked down and saw he was telling the truth. Augustus was not rooting in the trough but looking up longingly. She knew it was not foolishness, but his expectation of the treat she always brought in her pocket and gave before she left - an apple, a carrot, sometimes a piece of leftover pie or stale cake. Today, because of Lady Templemore's bounty, she'd stolen a buttered scone for him.
"I was fooling," she said. "I could recite The Corsair and make no difference to his eating."
Augustus rested his snout against the top of the wall and squealed demandingly.
"He protests that. Can you recite the The Corsair?"
"Of course not. I doubt even Lord Byron can."
"Perhaps you should just relate the story of your life," He suggested with a smile. "For the pig's sake, of course." Amy gave him a disgusted look. "Augustus couldn't care a fig for