That, with other social graces, would, perhaps, come in good time. She would soon acquire the habits and ways of her friends and acquaintances, without his trying to force upon her a series of affectations, which would only embarrass her and cloud the perfect frankness and spontaneity of her nature. Of one thing he was quite assured--that whatever mistakes Sheila might make in society they would never render her ridiculous. Strangers might not know the absolute sincerity of every word and act, which gave her a courage that had no fear of criticism, but they could at least see the simple grace and dignity of the girl, and that natural ease of manner which is beyond the reach of cultivation, being mainly the result of a thorough consciousness of honesty. To burden her with rules and regulations of conduct would be to produce the very catastrophes he wished to avoid. Where no attempt is made, failure is impossible; and he was meanwhile well content that Sheila should simply appear as Sheila, even although she might draw in a chair for a guest, or so far forget her dignity as to pour out some wine for her husband. “After all, Sheila,” said Lavender, “hadn’t I better begin and tell Ingram about your surprise and delight when you came near Oban and saw the tall hotels and the trees? It was the trees, I think, that struck you most, because, you know, those in Lewis--well, to tell the truth--the fact is, the trees of Lewis--as I was saying, the trees of Lewis are not just--they cannot be said to be--” “You bad boy, to say anything against the Lewis!” exclaimed Sheila; and Ingram held that she was right, and that there were certain sorts of ingratitude more disgraceful than others, and that this was just about the worst. “Oh, I have brought all the good away from Lewis,” said Lavender with a careless impertinence. “No,” said Sheila, proudly. “You have not brought away my papa, and there is not any one in this country I have seen as good as he is.” “My dear, your experience of the thirty millions of folks in these islands is quite convincing. I was wholly in the wrong; and if you forgive me we shall celebrate our reconciliation in a cigarette--that is to say, Ingram and I will perform the rites, and you can look on.” So Sheila went away to get the cigarettes also. “You don’t say you smoke in your drawing-room, Lavender?” said Ingram, mindful of the fastidious ways of his friend, even when he had bachelor’s rooms in King street. “Don’t I, though? I smoke everywhere--all over the place. Don’t you see we have no visitors yet. No one is supposed to know we have come South. Sheila must get all sorts of things before she can be introduced to my friends and my aunt’s friends, and the house must be put to rights, too. You wouldn’t have her go to see my aunt in that sailor’s costume she used to rush about in up in Lewis?” “That is precisely what I would have,” said Ingram, “She cannot look more handsome in any other dress.”