‘I have heard something about a tea-kettle, and ham and eggs. Daphne has an idea that she is learning to cook.’ ‘And do you approve of all this?’ Madoline smiled at the question. ‘I like her to be happy. I think she wastes a good deal of time; that she is doing nothing to carry on her education; but idleness is only natural in a girl of her age, and she has been at home such a short time, and she is so fond of the river.’ ‘Has it never occurred to you, Madoline, that there is some impropriety in these _tête-à-tête_ mornings with Edgar Turchill?’ ‘Impropriety! Impropriety in Daphne being on friendly terms with Edgar—Edgar, who has been brought up with us almost as a brother!’ ‘With you, perhaps; not with Daphne. She has spent most of her life away from South Hill. She is little more than a stranger to Mr. Turchill.’ ‘She would be very much surprised if you were to tell her so, and so would Edgar. Why, he used always to make himself her playfellow in her holidays, before she went to Madame Tolmache.’ ‘That was all very well while she was in short frocks. But she is now a woman, and people will talk about her.’ ‘About Daphne, my innocent childlike sister, little more than a child in years, quite a child in gaiety and light-heartedness! How can such an idea enter your head, Aunt Rhoda? Surely the most hardened scandalmonger could not find anything to say against Daphne.’ ‘My dear Madoline,’ began Mrs. Ferrers severely, ‘you are usually so sensible in all you do and say that I really wonder at the way you are talking this morning. There are certain rules of conduct, established time out of mind, for well-bred young women; and Daphne can no more violate those rules with impunity than anybody else can. It is not because she wears her hair down her back and her petticoats immodestly scanty that she is to go scot-free,’ added Aunt Rhoda in a little involuntary burst of malevolence. She had not been fond of Daphne as a child; she liked her much less as a young woman. To a well-preserved woman of forty, who still affects to be young, there is apt to be something aggravating in the wild freshness and unconscious insolence of lovely seventeen. ‘Aunt Rhoda, I think you forget that Daphne is my sister—my very dear sister.’ ‘Your half-sister, Madoline. I forget nothing. It is you who forget that there are reasons in Daphne’s antecedents why we should be most especially careful about her.’ ‘It is unkind of you to speak of that, aunt,’ protested Madoline, blushing. ‘As to Edgar Turchill, he is my father’s favourite companion; he is devoted to all of us. There can be no possible harm in his being a kind of adopted brother to Daphne.’ ‘He was an adopted brother to you three years ago, and we all know what came of it.’ ‘Pshaw! That was a foolish fancy, and is all over and done with.’ ‘The same thing may happen in Daphne’s case.’ ‘If it should, would you be sorry? I am sure I should not. I know my father would approve.’