“I do not understand it at all: Philip’s manners in a sick room are particularly good--much better than I should have expected, and he has been very attentive and gentle-handed; but, from the first, Fred has shown a dislike to him, questioned all his measures, and made the most of it whenever he was obliged to give him any pain. The last time the London doctor was here, I am sure he hurt Fred a good deal more than Philip has ever done, yet the boy bore it manfully, though he shrinks and exclaims the moment Philip touches him. Then he is always talking of wishing for old Clarke at Rocksand, and I give Mary infinite credit for never having proposed to send for him. I used to think she had great faith in the old man, but I believe it was only her mother.” “Of course it was. It is only when Mary has to act alone that you really are obliged to perceive all her excellent sense and firmness; and I am very glad that you should be convinced now and then, that in nothing but her fears, poor thing, has she anything of the spoiling mamma about her.” “As if I did not know that,” said he, smiling. “And so she would not yield to this fancy? Very wise indeed. But I should like to know the reason of this dislike on Fred’s part. Have you ever asked him?” “No; he is not in a fit state for argument; and, besides, I think the prejudice would only be strengthened. We have praised Philip again and again, before him, and said all we could think of to give him confidence in him, but nothing will do; in fact, I suspect Mr. Fred was sharp enough to discover that we were talking for a purpose. It has been the great trouble this whole time, though neither Mary nor I have mentioned it, for fear of annoying my mother.” “Papa,” said Busy Bee, “I am afraid I know the reason but too well. It was my foolish way of talking about the Careys; I used to tease poor Fred about Roger’s having taken him for Philip, and say all sorts of things that I did not really mean.” “Hem!” said her father. “Well, I should think it might be so; it always struck me that the prejudice must be grounded upon some absurd notion, the memory of which had passed away, while the impression remained.” “And do you think I could do anything towards removing it? You know I am to go and wish Fred good-bye this afternoon.” “Why, yes; you might as well try to say something cheerful, which might do away with the impression. Not that I think it will be of any use; only do not let him think it has been under discussion.” Beatrice assented, and was silent again while they went on talking. “Aunt Mary has held out wonderfully?” said her mother. “Too wonderfully,” said Mr. Geoffrey Langford, “in a way which I fear will cost her dearly. I have been positively longing to see her give way as she ought to have done under the fatigue; and now I am afraid of the old complaint: she puts her hand to her side now and then, and I am persuaded that she had some of those spasms a night or two ago.”