"Why? What, I mean, that could not be properly overcome? You are one guardian, I the other; I take one boy, you the other. What is there strange about such a course? Or I could take both together."

"I should be against James leaving the country, myself. He is safely started in his school; doing well there; striking his _milieu_. Why disturb him?"

"Well, Harry, then. What sort of a child is he, James? I haven't seen either of them for three years, but as I remember it, I liked James best. Rather the manly type, isn't he? Not but what the other seemed a nice enough child...."

"Harry? Oh, he'll have the brains of his generation, without doubt. Yes, I'm not surprised at your liking James best. There are plenty of people who find Harry the more attractive, however. He's got winning ways.

But--are you serious about this, Miriam?"

"Serious? Certainly!"

"Well, what's the point? Do we want to make an Englishman out of the boy? And do you want to separate them? Wouldn't that smack a little of--well, of Babes in the Wood? Cruel uncles and things, you know?"

"I don't think so. We wouldn't want to do that, of course. It wouldn't be for always, anyway. But even if he went to an English public school, which I should prefer to an American one, particularly for that type ...

they would always have vacations. You are here, and I am there, and we would keep running across pretty frequently. Besides," here Lady Fletcher again changed her tone, and generally gave the impression of preparing to start another maneuver; "besides, there's another element in it--Giles. He's devoted to children. He would come as near being a father to the boy, if he liked him, as any one could. And--do you realize what that might mean for him--for Harry?" Miriam stopped, significantly, and looked her brother straight in the eye for a moment.

"The Rumbold property is very large, and Giles will certainly come into it before long...."

"I see," said James, slowly nodding his head; "I see. Though I wouldn't sacrifice anything definite to that chance. Beside, what about the Carson family?"

"Oh, yes, I'm not saying there's any certainty; it's just one of the things to be counted on.... Leaving Harry out of consideration for the moment, it would be a wonderful thing for Giles. I can't think of anything Giles would rather have; it would be like giving him a son. And if you knew how wild English people of a certain cla.s.s and type are about children--! Giles has never got on well with the Carson children, for some reason."

"That's all very fine, Miriam, but we mustn't leave Harry out of consideration, since it's him we're the guardians of, and not Giles--at least, I am.... I'm inclined to think there is something in what you say, though I should be definitely against making an Englishman of him--you understand that?" Lady Fletcher nodded, and her brother continued: "It would certainly have an admirably broadening influence, if all went right. And I'm not sure but what you're right about English public schools. Even for American boys. But--" here he smiled quizzically at his sister--"did you ever hear of a person called Selina Wimbourne?"

Lady Fletcher laughed. "You've hit it this time, I fancy! Honestly, James--" the practical mood was now in complete abeyance--"though I've knocked around a good deal with swells and terrifying people and all that, I have never been so cowed by the mere presence of any individual as I have been by my sister Selina. Did it ever occur to you, James, that Selina runs this family--well, as the engineer runs this train?"

"Something very like it--yes."

"At any rate, I have a premonition in the present instance that as Selina jumps the tree will fall ... fancy Selina jumping out of a tree!

It will have to be most carefully put to her--if it is put."

"If it is put--exactly. We must see how things lie before doing anything.--What, already?" This to a negro porter, who was exhibiting willingness to be of service. "We must look alive--the next stop's New Haven. Mind you don't say anything too soon, now; easy does it."

"Yes, of course.--No, Bridgeport, isn't it?--What, don't we, any more?... But you are on my side, in the main, aren't you?"

"Conditionally, yes--that is, if all parties seem agreeable. The one thing I won't stand for is--well, Babes in the Wood business."

"James, what do you think of my taking Harry off to England with me?"

said Aunt Miriam to her elder nephew a day or two later.

"I think it would be fine," was his reply, and then after a pause: "For how long, though?"

This was going nearer to the heart of the matter than the lady cared to penetrate, so she merely answered:

"Oh, one can't tell; a few months; perhaps more, if he wants to stay."

Seeing that he swallowed this without apparent effort, she went on: "What should you say to his going to school in England, when he is able, for a time?"

James' expression underwent no change, but he only answered stiffly, "I think he had better come to St. Barnabas, when he is able," and his aunt let the matter drop there.

It was in Aunt Cecilia, and not Aunt Selina, that Lady Fletcher found the most formidable opposition. Miss Wimbourne, indeed, quite took to the idea when her half-sister, very carefully and with not a little concealed trepidation, suggested it to her. She took it, as Miriam more vividly put it to her brother, "like milk."

"That is not a bad plan, Miriam, not a bad plan at all," she said in the quiet voice that could be so firm when it wanted. "I can see why there are good reasons why neither of the boys should live in New Haven. For the present, you know. James will be at school, and will spend his vacations with James' family, and Harry will be with you until he is ready to do the same. I do not see but what it is a very good arrangement. I am perfectly willing to do my part in taking care of them, but I am not nearly so useful in that way as either you or James."

But not so with Mrs. James. Her husband first spoke to her of the scheme before breakfast on the Monday morning, and she took immediate and articulate exception to it. The plan was forced, dangerous, artificial, cruel, unnecessary, short-sighted; in fact, it wouldn't do at all. There was no telling what Miriam would do with him, once he was over there, and no telling when she would let him come back to what had been, what ought to be, and what, if she (Mrs. James) had any say in the matter, was going to be his Home. It would make her extremely unhappy to think of that child spending his vacations--or his whole time for that matter--with any one but his uncle and natural guardian ("Miriam is his guardian, too," James attempted to say, but no attention was paid to him), his aunt and his young cousins. As for all that business about Giles Fletcher, it was Perfect Nonsense. Before she would give an instant's consideration to such--to such an absurdity, she (Mrs. James) would give the boy every sc.r.a.p of money she had, or was ever going to have, outright, and would end the matter then and there. (This would have been a really appalling threat, if it was meant seriously, for Cecilia was due to inherit millions.) As for sending him to an English public school, she thought it would be the cruelest, most unfeeling, most ridiculous thing possible, seeing Harry was what he was. If it had been James, now--!

But the G.o.ds fought on Miriam's side. Cecilia went into the library during the latter part of the morning and discovered young James alone there. She found him uncommunicative and solemn, which, in the nature of things, was only to be expected; and he took her completely by surprise by asking after a few moments, in the most ordinary tone:

"Who is Marcelline Lefebre, Aunt Cecilia?"

Mrs. James stifled a gasp, and waited before replying till she was sure of her voice.

"Why? How did you ever hear of her?" she said.

"Oh, in this. There's a lot more about it to-day. She was badly hurt, wasn't she?"

Mrs. James looked up and saw the newspaper lying open on the desk in front of which James was sitting.

"Oh, yes.... An actress, I think."

"Yes," said James, "it says that here." The words and tone clearly implied that James expected her to tell him something he did not know already, but she parried.

"Had you ever heard of her before?"

"No, never. That's just the funny part of it. Why should we never have heard of a person Father knew well enough to take out to ride? Did you ever know her?"

"No; merely heard of her. Oh, it's not to be wondered at; he had lots of acquaintances, of course." This was definite enough to indicate that she had told him all she intended to, and both were silent for a while. But presently a new thought occurred to her and she began again:

"Tell me, James, does Harry know anything about Mme. Lefebre?"

"Not that I know of; not unless he heard of her ... before."

"Well, I think it would be a good plan if you didn't mention her name to him, or talk about her in his presence."

"All right. Why, though--particularly?"

"Never mind about that. At least," she caught herself up, realizing, perhaps, that this was treating him too much _en enfant_; "at least, I think it would be just as well for him not to know anything about her.

It might worry him. Particularly in his present state. There is no reason why he should see the papers, or hear anything."

"I see," said James, quietly, staring out of the window. He saw far too well, poor boy, was Aunt Cecilia's thought.

But the conversation started her off on a new line of thought in regard to Harry. Harry was so different from James; if he once smelled a rat he would go nosing about till he found him, even if he undermined the foundations of his own happiness in so doing. And Harry was the kind that smelled rats.... Inevitably her thoughts wandered around to Lady Fletcher's scheme, and beheld it in a new light. There was a certain amount of common sense in the plan, so viewed; there would certainly be fewer rats in London than anywhere in this country. And after all, what was the danger in his going to England? Miriam would not eat him, neither would Giles; Miriam must really be fond of him if she wanted to take him--Miriam would hardly do anything against her own inclination, she reflected, a little bitterly.

She presented her changed front to her husband that evening, and the upshot of it all was that Harry was to go to England. The whole family adjourned to New York after the funeral, and steamship plans and sailings were in the air. James went with them; it was decided that he was not to return to school till Harry sailed with his aunt.

Harry himself took most kindly to the scheme; seemed, indeed, to prefer it to St. Barnabas. He flaunted his superior fortune in the face of his brother, making comparisons between the British Isles and St. Barnabas, greatly to the detriment of the latter.

"Oh, yes, I'll write to you," he said airily during one of these conversations; "that is, if I can find a minute to do it in. Of course I shall be pretty busy, with pantomimes, and theaters, and parties, and--and the Zoo, and all that."

"Fudge," said James calmly; "you'll be homesick as a cat before you've been there a week."