“I think myself,” said Etta, “that he has taken rather too much upon his shoulders lately. You see, you were so long abroad, and yet you were his master. Whereas I was hardly in a position to dictate to him.” “I shall speak to him to-night,” said Horace. Miss Lestrange put down her embroidery and faced her brother. “Horace,” she said, “I hope you found Leslie reconciled to the idea of this great change? I did not like to speak to him about it myself. I am not an emotional woman, but my feelings for you and for your boy have been very strong. I did not trust myself to say much. I told Mr. Flinders that nothing must be said to prejudice him against his future step-mother, and then I left the subject to you to explain.” “He does not seem to have carried out your orders, Etta.” “Oh, my dear Horace,” she cried with a sudden note of anxiety in her voice, “how dreadful--how _very_ dreadful!” “It is exceedingly tiresome, of course, but I fancy the boy will soon take to Edith; she is clever with children.” Miss Lestrange rose to her feet; she looked agitated, plain, and awkward; her hands trembled and she gathered her sewing materials together. (There was the making of an excellent actress about Miss Lestrange.) “My dear boy,” she said solicitously, “I haven’t liked to bother you about it while you were away--these things are so intangible--but Dr. Bossage isn’t quite pleased with Leslie’s health, his constitution is so delicate; he takes after Annette. You know I have been almost excessively careful of him. I spoke to Bossage last week about the impending change, and he said it would be a very serious matter unless the boy really took to her. I blame myself, Horace, for not having conquered my feelings and spoken to Leslie strongly in her favor; but the Lestranges have always been sincere; there was this story against her. I was too cautious. I waited. I am afraid I may have done incalculable harm--” She stopped breathless. Horace eyed her gravely. “Is that all?” he asked as she finished. “You had better go and see Bossage yourself,” said Miss Lestrange; “he strongly advised my taking the boy to live in the country or by the sea for a year or two, till he becomes definitely strong. I daresay you remember my having mentioned it to you in my last letter? Of course, should you think it best, I will take him with pleasure. I have already told you that I will send to Mallows for all my little things.” “You know you needn’t do that, Etta; Mallows is as much your home as mine. Edith and I will run down when we like, but I most certainly wish you to remain there,” interrupted her brother. Miss Lestrange bowed her head.