“Well,” said her sister, “is there anything wonderful in that? We are very different types, and till we see the hero, we shall not be able to tell which he is likely to prefer. I see my way to a little diversion, if you will not be too puritanical, Fan. That never does a man any harm. It will rouse him up; it will give him something to think of. A place like this can’t have much amusement, even for a youngest boy. We shall make him enjoy himself. His mother will bless us. You know, everybody says it is part of education for a man.” Frances looked at her sister with eyes bewildered, somewhat horrified, full of disapproval; while Constance, roused still more by her sister’s horror than by the first mischievous suggestion which had awakened her from her indifference, laughed, and woke up into full animation. “We will go and return their visits,” she said, “and I will be sympathetic too. But you shall see, when I take up a part, I make much more of it than you do. I know who these people were who did not go to church. They were my people--the people I travelled with; and they shall go next Sunday, and Tasie’s heart shall rejoice. When we call, I will let them know that England, even at Bordighera, expects every man--and every woman, which is more to the purpose--and that their absence was remarked. They will never be absent again, Fan. And as for the other interest, I shall inquire all about Katie’s illnesses, and secure the very last intelligence about the youngest boy. She will show me his photograph. She will tell me stories of how he cut his first tooth. I wonder,” said Constance, suddenly pausing and falling back into the old languid tone, “whether you will take up my old ways, when you are with mamma.” “I shall never have it in my power to try,” said Frances. “Mamma will never want me.” She was a little shy of using that name. “Don’t you know the condition, then? I think you don’t half know our story. Papa behaved rather absurdly, but honestly too. When they separated, he settled that one of us should always be with her, and one of us with him. He had the right to have taken us both. Men have more rights than women. We belong to him, but we don’t belong to her. I don’t see the reason of it, but still that is law. He allowed her to have one of us always. I daresay he thought two little things like what we were then would have been a bore to him. At all events, that is how it was settled. Now it does not need much cleverness to see, that as I have left her, she will probably claim you. She will not let papa off anything he has promised. She likes a girl in the house. She will say, ‘Send me Frances.’ I should like to hide behind a door or under a table, and see how you get on.” “I am sure you must be mistaken,” said Frances, much disturbed; “there was never any question about me.”