"Probably not, Mrs. Bunker. Under certain circumstances, I might consider it advisable to prolong my trip. And I must say the prospect of remaining in America is delightful to me—most delightful." "The fact is, Lord Canning," continued Stillwater, "we spoil our children. We know it, but we can’t help it. The girls, mind you—the boys are easy enough thrown on the world—but the girls," he smiled fondly, "the pretty, little, delicate girls—how can you help spoiling them? You should have seen Indy—" Lord Canning’s face assumed an expression of deep interest. "A doll—you could have put her in a quart pitcher. She’d roll up her little sleeves, and fight and sass me—we’d roar at her. As she grew up, it grew with her, and now when she gets in a temper, we all scatter till she’s over it. And then she creeps under your coat, like a little, white mouse, and loves you so, with her pretty hands and her soft face. Now, what can a man do?" Lord Canning regarded his host reflectively. "You begin early to make a rough road for the girl’s future husband, don’t you?" "Oh, no! Our people understand that every man is under the thumb of his wife, and is proud of it." This assertion sounded astounding to the listener. Before, however, he could grasp its full value, he caught sight of Indiana’s white dress among the pines. As he watched her coming toward them, her head making a light advancing spot among the dark trees, Stillwater’s friendly warning faded from his mind as completely as though it had never been given. "It all rests with her now," he thought. "Why so serious?" said Indiana. "Let me into this secret discussion. If it’s not snow and ice, and the North Pole, I know more about it than Lord Canning—and if it’s not farming, I know more about it than pa." "I guess I’ll let you fight it out with Indiana," remarked Stillwater, dryly. He looked at her, with a sigh, then climbed slowly up to the camp. "We were discussing many things," said Lord Canning, bashfully. "Marriage; the training of children—" "Marriage—with pa?" replied Indiana, with a laugh. "He’s absolutely ignorant on the subject." "Remarkable," said Lord Canning, "considering he’s seventeen years married." "Oh, that was only a boy-and-girl affair. In those days it was a farm, a wife to do the housework—and they always lived happily." "I wish it were as simple a matter with you as with your mother," ventured Lord Canning. "I’m different from mother. If I were not, you would not—" "What?" asked Lord Canning. "Oh, nothing," stooping to pick up a sprig of balsam, which had fallen from Lord Stafford’s basket. "Let us follow that little trail down there beside the lake," suggested Lord Canning, "do you mind?"