"Then he is inconstant, or else belongs to the tribe of faint hearts. How ridiculous the idea of folks falling in love at first sight! Yet they often do. The girl was pleased with him, and she still likes him." "Likes him, does she?" drawled Burr, sarcastically, and lifted a gherkin to his teeth. "Yes, don't you like him?" "Very much." He bit the pickle quite savagely. "What do you think of _her_?" "It cannot be the fault of the male sex that she remains single." "Some women are not inclined to marry." "Is Miss Hale one of those foolish virgins?" "She is wise in taking time to select. She has many suitors." "And you think she likes Arlington?" "I know she does." "Humph! she might do better." "She might fare worse." "Does he write to her?" "No, not that I know of." "He is an idiot." "You show a jealous interest in the young man." Here madam halted abruptly. "Pardon me; I hear the boys; their father must have returned." She rose expecting to receive her husband at the dining-room door, but the footsteps she heard were not his. The vociferous boys came rushing in. "Fort Byle" was finished. Wouldn't "General" Burr come and see? "You should not storm in, rudely, children; you disturb us. Harman, you have ruined your clothes; you are covered from head to foot with--I don't know what!" "Spanish needles and sticktights; they won't hurt. Juno will scrape them off. We're hungry." "Won't he come to the fort after luncheon?" importuned Dominick. "Yes, I will come." "Listen," said the mother. "My son, you must first go with me to the ferry. I am uneasy about papa. He did not intend to be gone longer than a couple of hours. We must try to meet him. Perhaps the colonel will go along, down to the landing." "Certainly," replied the colonel, studying how to get rid of the "sticktights." After luncheon, all set out on the proposed walk to the river-side. The island and the vistas it commanded naturally drew folks out of doors. Finer weather could not be imagined. The distance from the lawn to the wharf, by way of the winding road, measured not less than a quarter of a mile. The boys raced ahead in the frolic fashion of human colts, yelling, leaping and throwing stones. Slowly the matron and her escort followed, far in the wake of the obstreperous juveniles. "They are growing up like savages," said the mother, deprecatingly. "What shall I do with them? To teach them properly seems impossible. I am the parent of a brace of barbarians. Yet they are dear sweet boys--loving and brave. They despise meanness and never tell lies." "Then you are the mother of nobles. They will be men--to-morrow. Plato truly says the boy is the most unmanageable of animals. Boys have an element of the cruel and ferocious. But we need not take this much to heart. They will outgrow the savage. We must not look for ripe fruit on green sprouts, nor for elaborate reason or virtue in children." "Yet I cannot bear to have them grow up in wild ignorance."