“What manner of man, woman, or child ought he or she to be who is to cost so much,” protested De Vaux ironically. “A beer-drinking clown, a long-tongued slattern, a dirty-faced imp of mischief—one and all of them dropping their r’s and revelling in their h’s.” “Lord De Vaux!” said Lady Margaret, taken in by his tone, and getting red and indignant. “Berry says he has heard as good sense and as poetic thoughts from men and women who abused their r’s and h’s, as he ever listened to from their neighbours who respected these important letters. He is tempted to hold that it is a prejudice to be so particular about their disposal. More than that, he protests that, if the use of a tooth-brush would cause him to have a profound aversion to and contempt for the multitude who do not employ such an aid to their toilet, he would rather renounce tooth-brushes for ever, and continue to care for his brother.” Lady Margaret had recovered her good-humour by this time, and saw he was trying her; so she added waggishly, “I must tell you, Lord De Vaux, that I have the greatest respect for an honest old woman who commits the enormity of taking snuff, as papa remembers your great-grandmother and mine doing freely, and that Berry’s model boy has red hair and a face covered with freckles.” “What will you do without Berry?” he questioned her insidiously. “I don’t know,” she answered, her face falling, and herself dropping forthwith into the new trap laid for her. “We’ll miss him dreadfully, and we are only to go to town after Easter for a few weeks, just that I may be presented, as mamma does not think that I am strong enough to stand the season. Berry will have nobody from home with him for the rest of the time, except Reiver, to make him feel less lonely, poor dear fellow.” “You might take Carlo and me in exchange for Reiver and Berry. I think you could make something of us—get us to run unprofessionally, and do a little work in time.” She looked up quickly to see how much he was in jest, and how much in earnest. She looked down again, and said hastily, “Carlo and you do not need me or any one to make you run and work, when it is in you both to run faster and work better than the rest of the world, if you choose.” She did not intend to flatter him by any means, but he was not displeased with her answer—not though she put aside his petition. The conviction had been growing upon De Vaux, till it was like an inspiration, that Lady Margaret and her brother held the right standard which he had missed—the one bracing and ennobling view of life—in which a man can live and die, serve God and man, and cast behind him self with all its weakness and waywardness.