"Very little, and if I press her she shudders, and seems ready to burst out sobbing. Then I have to comfort her by telling her that I am sure she will never see him any more, and when I say this she looks at me so strangely." "What does mamma say?" "Oh, only that Julie is foolish and hysterical. She doesn't understand her at all. Poor mamma never did understand us girls, I'm sure," said Cynthia, with a profound look of wisdom upon her little face. "And papa?" "Oh, poor dear papa thinks of nothing but seeing us married and--Oh, Harry, I _am_ ashamed." "What of?" he cried, catching her in his arms and kissing her tenderly. "Why, Cynthy, I never knew before what a fine old fellow the pater is. He is up to par in my estimation now." "Is that meant for a joke, sir?" said Cynthia mockingly. "Joke?--joke? I don't know what you mean." "Never mind now; but you need not be so pleased about what papa says. I think it's very cruel--wanting to get rid of us." "I don't," exclaimed Artingale, laughing. "Then you want to see poor Julie married to that dreadful Perry-Morton?" "No, I don't; I want her to have dear old James Magnus. I say, Cynthy. We won't be selfish, eh? We won't think about ourselves, will we? Let's try and make other people happy." "Yes, Harry, we will." It was wonderful to see the sincerity with which these two young people spoke, and how eagerly they set to making plans for other people's happiness--a process which seemed to need a great deal of clinging together for mutual support, twining about of arms, and looking long and deeply into each other's eyes for counsel. Then Artingale's hair was a little too much over his forehead for the thoughts of Cynthia to flow freely, and it had to be smoothed back by a little white hand with busy fingers. But that hair was obstinate, and it was not until the little pinky fingers had several times been moistened between Cynthia's ruddy lips and drawn over the objecting strands of hair that they could be forced to retain the desired position. After the performance of such a kindly service Artingale would have been ungrateful if he had not thanked her in the most affectionate way his brain could suggest, a proceeding of which, with all due modesty, the young lady seemed highly to approve. Then Harry's tie was not quite right, and the new collar stud had to be admired, and a great deal more of this very unselfish _eau sucree_ had to be imbibed before Julia again came on the _tapis_, her entrance being heralded by a sister's sigh. "Poor Julie!" said Cynthia. "Oh, yes; poor Julia. Now, look here, pet, I dare say it's very shocking, and if it were known the Rector would be sure to give me my _conge_." "Oh, I would never think of telling him, Harry." "That's right. Well, as I was saying, if she marries Perry-Morton she will be miserable." "Horribly," assented Cynthia. "And if she marries old Magnus she will be very happy." "But are you sure that Mr Magnus really loves her?"