"They will take 'em at any age, I understand; and Mrs. Vyell, it appears, has no objection." "She is not returning to Carolina by sea." "No; but she can influence her husband. I must have another talk with her . . . a pleasant, unaffected creature, and, for a sailor's wife, more than presentable. One had hardly indeed looked to find such natural good manners in this part of the world. Her mother was a Quakeress, she tells me: yet she laughs a good deal, which I had imagined to be against their principles. She doesn't say 'thee' and 'thou' either." "I heard her _tutoyer_ her husband." "Indeed? . . . Well," Lady Caroline went on somewhat inconsequently, "Harry is a lucky man. When one thinks of the dreadful connections these sailors are only too apt to form--though one cannot wholly blame them, their opportunities being what they are . . . But, as I was saying, Oliver couldn't have done better, for himself or for the child. At home the poor little creature could never be but a question; and since he has this craze for salt water--curious he should resemble his uncle in this rather than his father--one may almost call it providential. . . . At the same time, my dear, I wish you could have shown a little more interest." "In the child? Why?" "Really, Diana, I wish you would cure yourself of putting these abrupt questions. . . . Your Cousin Oliver is now the head of the family, remember. He has received us with uncommon cordiality, and put himself out not a little--" "I can believe _that_," said Diana brusquely. "And it says much. All men are selfish, and Oliver as a youth was very far from being an exception. I find the change in him significant of much. . . . At the same time you have mixed enough in the world, dear, to know that young men will be young men, and this sort of thing happens, unfortunately." "If, mamma, you suppose I bear Cousin Oliver any grudge because of this child--" "I am heartily glad to hear you say it. There should be, with us women, a Christian nicety in dealing with these--er--situations; in retrospect, at all events. A certain--disgust, shall we say?--is natural, proper, even due to our sex: I should think the worse--very far the worse--of my Diana did she not feel it. But above all things, charity! . . . And let me tell you, dear, what I could not have told at the time, but I think you are now old enough to know that such an experience is often the best cure for a man, who thereafter, should he be fortunate in finding the right woman, anchors his affections and proves the most assiduous of husbands. This may sound paradoxical to you--" "Dear mamma"--Diana hid a smile and a little yawn together--"believe me it does not." "Such a man, then," pursued Lady Caroline, faintly surprised, "is likely to be the more appreciative of any kindness shown to--er--what I may call the living consequence of his error." "Why not say 'Dicky' at once, mamma, and have done with it."