‘But what is the good of an entail? If we had had a brother, it might have been a good thing to keep it in the family; but surely, when we have no brother, we are the proper heirs. It would be more right even, if one person were to have it all, that Anne should be the person. _She_,’ said Rose, with a little fervour, ‘would be sure to take care of me.’ ‘I think so too, Rosie,’ said her mother; ‘but then Anne will not always just be Anne. She will marry somebody, and she will not have a will of her own--at least not _such_ a will of her own. There is one way,’ Mrs. Mountford added with a laugh, ‘in which things are sometimes put right, Rose. Do you remember Mr. Collins in Miss Austen’s novel? He came to choose a wife among the Miss Bennetts to make up for taking their home from them. I am afraid that happens oftener in novels than in real life. Perhaps,’ she said, laughing again, but with artificial mirth, ‘your cousin Heathcote is coming to look at you girls to see whether he would like one of you for his wife.’ ‘I daresay,’ said Rose calmy; ‘that went through my mind too. He would like Anne, of course, if he could get her; but then Anne--likes somebody else.’ ‘There are more people than Anne in the world,’ said the mother, with some indignation. ‘Anne! we all hear so much of Anne that we get to think there is nobody like her. No, my pet, a man of Heathcote Mountford’s age--it is not anything like Anne he is thinking of; they don’t want tragedy queens at that age; they want youth.’ ‘You mean, mamma, said Rose, still quite serious, ‘that he would like me best.’ ‘My pet, we don’t talk of such things. It is quite time enough when they happen, if they ever happen.’ ‘But I prefer to talk about them,’ said Rose. ‘It would be very nice to keep Mount; but then, if Anne had all the money, what would be the good of Mount? We, I mean, could never keep it up.’ ‘This is going a very long way,’ said her mother, amused; ‘you must not talk of what most likely will never happen. Besides, there is no telling what changes may take place. Anne has not pleased papa, and no one can say what money she may have and what you may have. That is just what nobody can tell till the time comes.’ ‘You mean--till papa dies?’ ‘Oh, Rosie,’ said Mrs. Mountford, alarmed, ‘don’t be so plain-spoken, dear; don’t let us think of such a thing. What would become of us if anything happened to dear papa?’ ‘But it must happen some time,’ said Rose, calmly, ‘and it will not happen any sooner because we speak of it. I hope he will live a long time, long after we are both married and everything settled. But if one of us was rich, it would not be worth her while to marry Heathcote, unless she was very fond of Mount; and I don’t think we are so very fond of Mount. And if one of us was poor, it would not be worth _his_ while, because he would not be able to keep it up.’