“That is just what I say about the country,” remarked Mr. Black; “life stagnates here; you should come to London, Mrs. Dudley; come and bring the girls, and we will take you about. There are lots of rooms in Stanley Crescent crying out for some one to come and occupy them. Persuade your husband to give himself a holiday whenever the crops are in; you have never paid us a visit yet, and I call it mean.” “We should be only too delighted if you would come,” murmured Mrs. Black. “Well, all _I_ can say is,” remarked Miss Hope, “that if I had such a place as Berrie Down, I would never leave it.” “Not even to go abroad?” asked Mrs. Ormson. “Not even to go abroad,” answered Miss Hope, deliberately—an assertion which took every one so much by surprise, that no person disputed its truthfulness; not even Arthur, who, feeling his aunt’s words were intended as a useful moral lesson for him, longed to argue the matter out with her, and say he should go to London, or stay at Berrie Down, or take a still longer journey if it pleased him to do so, without consulting any one in the matter. “You would like greatly to have my nephew staying in Stanley Crescent?” Miss Hope said to Mrs. Black later on in the course of the same day. “I should _greatly_,” answered the promoter, and thus war was declared between them; and from that day forth Miss Hope began unintentionally playing into her enemy’s hands. “Take care what you are about with that man, Arthur,” she entreated. “My dear aunt, I am much obliged to you for your kindness, but I believe I can manage my own affairs,” he returned. “Heather, you must speak to Arthur,” she then declared; “if you do not speak, you will one day repent your weakness.” “But I am afraid of vexing him,” Mrs. Dudley objected. “Vex, nonsense; better vex him than lose every sixpence you have in the world.” “Do you think my speaking likely to do any good?” “It cannot do any harm;” and thus exhorted, Heather inquired,— “Have you any intention, Arthur, of—of going into business?” “Business,” he repeated; “what in the world put such an idea as that into your mind?” “You and Mr. Black are always talking together.” “And you object to our talking?” “No; only I love Berrie Down, Arthur.” “Which my aunt thinks I am in danger of losing; is that it, Heather? No, I won’t lose Berrie Down, nor beggar you and the children. Does that content you?” “Yes, Arthur;” and she put her arm round his neck, and kissed him; and he, in return, kissed her, grateful, perhaps, for a wife whom so little confidence satisfied, or at least silenced; and who was as grateful for a kind word, for a loving look, as many a woman for the devotion of a life. In those days, Arthur Dudley was a much more agreeable individual than he had seemed for many a year previously. He was gayer, brighter, kindlier. He refrained from grumbling, and ceased to recite the benefits he had conferred upon his family.