‘Ah,’ said she, when she had finished the letter, ‘it is quite obvious why she wants to come. I did not know your sister was twenty-two, Otho. Indeed, I hardly realised that you had a sister.’ ‘No more did I, till she went and did this,’ said Otho, resentfully. ‘And you would rather she did not come?’ ‘Much rather. But it’s no use thinking of keeping her away. I’m not going to try. She has got the right to come, by my father’s will, and to stay as long as she likes, till one of us gets married. I can’t prevent it. The thing is, I don’t know what to do with her when I get her here.’ ‘Well, if you make it very pleasant for her, of course she’ll want to stay.’ Otho nodded. ‘Of course.’ ‘And if you upset all your habits, and make great changes on her account, then she will think you want her to stay, which would be quite a false impression.’ ‘I never thought of that.’ ‘Of course not; only it seems such a very obvious thing. Perhaps that is why it never occurred to you.’ ‘Now, come, none of your chaff. What I thought of was, that it’s simply impossible for a girl like that to settle down in a house full of my ways. I must do something, and what to do I don’t know. I wanted your advice.’ ‘And pray what right have you to my advice? Why should I interfere between you and your sister? I might tell you it is a just retribution on you for having alienated yourself systematically from all such ties. You demand my advice as if you were a highwayman requiring my watch and purse.’ Otho fidgeted and fumbled, h’mmed and ha’d. ‘I beg your pardon, Magdalen. I thought I had the right—of having asked before, and received—advice, you know. And you know I always do come to you when I am in trouble.’ ‘Oh yes; I know you do.’ ‘Would you please tell me what I had better do?’ ‘Is she good-looking?’ asked Magdalen. ‘Oh no!’ said Otho, promptly. ‘She has red hair and freckles.’ Magdalen glanced at Otho’s own dark traits, and said, ‘Now, Otho!’ ‘Upon my soul and honour she has; and one of those faces that flush up all over, without a minute’s warning. I never could see the sense of those faces. She goes into raptures, you know, and cries and laughs about things—at least, she did when I saw her. In fact, though she’s been at college somewhere, and is a complete blue—reads Homer, and all such bosh—I thought her a regular baby. She’s got rather a dashing figure,’ he added, musingly, ‘but I swear to you, Magdalen, she is _not_ good-looking.’ ‘But why, then, does this clergyman want to marry her? A man of wealth, family, and position? I know quite well who he is. They are very first-rate people down there.’