The drawing-room and the garden were just to my taste; and then the girls were so happy there."

"Would you not like a grander house to live in?" he asked, in the same indifferent tone. "I do not think it is half good enough for you and the girls."

Mrs. Challoner opened her eyes rather widely at this: but his voice gave her no clue to his real meaning, and she thought it was just his joking way with her.

"It would seem a palace after this!" she returned, with a sigh.

"Somehow, I never cared for great big houses, they are so much expense to keep up; and when one has not a man in the house----"

"Why, you have me, Aunt Catherine!" speaking up rather briskly.

"Yes, my dear; and you are a great comfort to us all. It is so nice to have some one to consult; and, though I would not say so to Nan for the world, d.i.c.k is so young that I never could consult him."

"By the bye, that reminds me I must have a look at that young fellow,"

returned her nephew. "Let me see, the Oxford term is over, and he will be home again. Suppose I run over to Oldfield--it is no distance from town--and leave my card on Mr. Mayne senior?"

"You, Harry!" And Mrs. Challoner looked quite taken aback at the proposition.

"Well," he remarked, candidly, "I think it is about time something was done: Nan looks awfully serious sometimes. What is the good of being the head of one's family, if one is not to settle an affair like that?

I don't feel inclined to put up with any more nonsense in that quarter, I can tell you that, Aunt Catherine."

"But, Harry,"--growing visibly alarmed,--"you do not know Mr. Mayne: he can make himself so excessively disagreeable."

"So can most men when they like."

"Yes; but not exactly in that way. I believe he is really very fond of d.i.c.k; but he wants to order his life in his own way, and no young man will stand that."

"No, by Jove! that is rather too strong for a fellow. I should say Master d.i.c.k could not put up with that."

"It seems my poor Nan is not good enough for his son, just because she had no money and has been obliged to make herself useful. Does it not seem hard, Harry?--my beautiful Nan! And the Maynes are just n.o.bodies: why, Mr. Mayne's father was only a shopkeeper in a very small way, and his wife's family was no better!"

"Well, you must not expect me to understand all that," replied her nephew, in a puzzled tone. "In the colonies, we did not think much about that sort of thing: it would not have done there to inquire too narrowly into a man's antecedents. I knew capital fellows whose fathers had been butchers, and bakers, and candlestick-makers; and, bless me! what does it matter if the fellow is all right himself?" he finished; for the last Challoner was a decided Radical.

But Mrs. Challoner, who was mildly obstinate in such matters, would not yield her point:

"You would think differently if you had been educated at Eton. In England, it is necessary to discriminate among one's acquaintances. I find no fault with d.i.c.k: he is as nice and gentlemanly as possible; but his father has not got his good-breeding; possibly he had not his advantages. But it is they--the Maynes--who would be honored by an alliance with one of my daughters." And Mrs. Challoner raised her head and drew herself up with such queenly dignity that Sir Harry dared not argue the point.

"Oh, yes; I see," he returned, hastily. "Well, I shall let him know what you think. You need not be afraid I shall lower your dignity, Aunt Catherine. I meant to be rather high and mighty myself,--that is, if I could manage it." And he broke into one of his huge laughs.

Mrs. Challoner was very fond of her nephew; but she was not a clever woman, and she did not always understand his hints. When they were alone together, he was perpetually making this sort of remarks to her in a half-serious, half-joking way, eliciting her opinions, consulting her tastes, with a view to his future plans.

With the girls he was provokingly reticent. Phillis and Dulce used to catechise him sometimes; but his replies were always evasive.

"Do you know, Harry," Phillis said to him once, very gravely, "I think you are leading a dreadfully idle life? You do nothing absolutely all day but walk to and fro between the hotel and the Friary."

"Come, now," retorted her cousin, in an injured tone, "I call that confoundedly hard on a fellow who has come all these thousands of miles just to cultivate his relations and enjoy a little relaxation.

Have I not worked hard enough all my life to earn a holiday now?"

"Oh, yes," she returned, provokingly, "we all know how hard you have worked; but all the same it does not do to play at idleness too long.

You are very much improved, Harry. Your tailor has done wonders for you; and I should not be ashamed to walk down Bond Street with you any afternoon, though the people do stare, because you are so big. But don't you think it is time to settle down? You might take rooms somewhere. Lord Fitzroy knows of some capital ones in Sackville Street; Algie Burgoyne had them."

"Well, no, thank you, Phillis: I don't think I shall go in for rooms."

"Well, then, a house: you know you are so excessively rich, Harry,"

drawling out her words in imitation of his rather slow p.r.o.nunciation.

"Oh, of course I shall take a house; but there is plenty of time for that."

And when she pressed him somewhat eagerly to tell her in what neighborhood he meant to live, he only shrugged his shoulders, and remarked, carelessly, that he would have a look round at all sorts of places by and by.

"But do you mean to take a house and live all alone?" asked Dulce.

"Won't you find it rather dull?"

"What's a fellow to do?" replied her cousin, enigmatically. "I suppose Aunt Catherine will not undertake the care of me?--I am too big, as you call it, for a houseful of women!"

"Well, yes; perhaps you are," she replied, contemplating him thoughtfully. "We should not know quite what to do with you."

"I wish I could get rid of a few of my superfluous inches," he remarked, dolorously; "for people seem to find me sadly in the way sometimes."

But Dulce said, kindly,--

"Oh, no, Harry; we never find you in the way: do we, mammie? We should be dreadfully dull without you now. I can hear you whistling a quarter of a mile off, and it sounds so cheerful. If there were only a house big enough for you next door, that would do nicely."

"Oh. I dare say I shall not be far off: shall I, Aunt Catherine?" for, to his aunt's utter bewilderment, he had established a sort of confidence between them, and expected her to understand all his vague hints. "You will not speak about this to the girls; this is just between you and me," he would say to her, when sometimes she had not a notion what he meant.

"I don't understand you, Harry," she said, once. "Why did you stop me just now when I was going to tell Phillis about the Ibbetsons leaving Glen Cottage? She would have been so interested."

"You must keep that to yourself a little while, Aunt Catherine: it will be such a surprise to the girls, you know. Did I tell you about the new conservatory Ibbetson has built? It leads out of the drawing-room, and improves the room wonderfully, they say."

"My dear Harry! what an expense! That is just what Mr. Mayne was always wanting us to do; and Nan was so fond of flowers. It was just what the room needed to make it perfect." And Mrs. Challoner folded her hands, with a sigh at the remembrance of the house she had loved so dearly.

"They say Gilsbank is for sale," remarked her nephew, rather suddenly, after this.

"What! Gilsbank, where old Admiral Hawkins lived? Nan saw the announcement of his death the other day, and she said then the place would soon be put up for sale. Poor old man! He was a martyr to gout."

"I had a look at it the other day," he replied, coolly. "Why, it is not a hundred yards from your old cottage. There is a tidy bit of land, and the house is not so bad, only it wants doing up; but the furniture--that is for sale too--is very old-fashioned and shabby."

"Are you thinking of it for yourself?" asked his aunt, in surprise.

"Why, Gilsbank is a large place; it would never do for a single man.

You would find the rooms Phillis proposed far handier."

"Why, Aunt Catherine!" in a tone of strong remonstrance. "You don't mean to condemn me to a life of single blessedness because of my size?"

"Oh, Harry, of course not! My dear boy, what an idea!"

"And some one may be found in time who could put up even with red hair."

"Oh, yes; that need not be an obstacle." But she looked at him with vague alarm. Of whom could he be thinking?

He caught her expression, and threw back his head with one of his merry laughs: