And at the pressing invitation of Miss Falconer, he recited the tale of Colonel Meldrum's love-affair. Peggy's verdict came hot and emphatic. "She was a beast to treat him like that." "Well, she has come back to him in the end," said broader-minded Philip. "Will they get married, do you think?" asked Peggy, all in a feminine flutter. Philip pondered. "I suppose so," he said at last. "But they are pretty old." "If they do," continued Peggy, "what will happen to you?" Philip pondered again. Life had suddenly turned a corner, and new vistas were opening before him. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I don't want to go back home at all. For one thing, I don't see how I can. I have broken an order. I told Uncle Joseph about meeting you, and he forbade me to speak to you again so long as I lived under his roof. I shouldn't have come this afternoon--" "Oh!" said Peggy reproachfully. "You can't disobey an order," explained Philip gently. "But when I saw Uncle Joseph and the lady--like"--he coughed modestly--"like the way they were, I thought I might." "He had broken his own orders," observed Miss Falconer jesuitically. "Besides," continued Philip, "I am not going to live under his roof any longer. I hate it all so." "Hate what?" Philip recollected himself. "The work I have to do," he said. "I used to like it once; but now--now I don't think it is very good work. Anyhow, I hate it. I can't go back to it. I only went on because--well, because of Uncle Joseph. He was very good to me, and I was some use to him." "My dear, he won't want you now," said Peggy shrewdly. Philip was conscious of a sudden thrill. "Won't he?" he said. "I never thought of that. Then I _needn't_ go back?" "You'll have to go somewhere, though," observed his sage counsellor. "Where are you going to?" "I should like to go about a bit. I have never even been to school. I don't know any other boys. I want to grow up and be a man, and travel about all over the world," said Philip, his eager spirit dashing off into futurity at once. "I see," said Peggy, suddenly cold again. "Yes," continued Philip. He was fairly soaring now. "Have you read 'The Idylls of the King'?" Peggy shook her head blankly. "No," she said. "Is it a story?" "Yes. It's all about a Round Table, and some knights who met there. They used to ride out and do the most splendid things." "What sort?" asked Peggy absently. The sudden revelation of the eternal masculine in Philip, exemplified by his desire to roam, was jangling the chords of the eternal feminine in herself. "Dangerous things," explained Philip enthusiastically. "What for?" "Well, they very often did them just out of bravery; but the very best things a knight did were always in honour of his Lady." "Oh! Then you would require a Lady?" said Peggy, growing distinctly more attentive.