"How can I tell?" Mrs. Middleton replied. "Of course she is fond of him in a way, but I can't help fancying sometimes that Horace--" "Horace!" Mr. Thorne's smile was singularly bland. "Oh, indeed! Horace--a charming arrangement! Pray how many more times is Mr. Horace to supplant that poor boy?" His soft voice changed suddenly, as one might draw a sword from its sheath. "Horace had better not cross Percival's path, or he will have to deal with me. Is he not content? What next must he have?" Mrs. Middleton paused. She could have answered him. There was an obvious reply, but it was too crushing to be used, and Mr. Thorne braved it accordingly. "Better leave your grandsons alone, Godfrey," she said at last, "if you'll take my advice; which I don't think you ever did yet. You'll only make mischief. And there is Sissy to be considered. Let the child choose for herself." "And you think she can choose--_Horace?_" "Why not?" "Choose Horace rather than Percival?" "I should," said the old lady with smiling audacity. "And I would rather she did. Horace's position is better." Mr. Thorne uttered something akin to a grunt, which might by courtesy be taken for a groan: "Oh, how mercenary you women are! Well, if you marry a man for his money, Horace has the best of it--if he behaves himself. Yes, I admit that--_if he behaves himself_"' "And Horace is handsomer," said Mrs. Middleton with a smile. "Pink-and-white prettiness!" scoffed Mr. Thorne. "Nonsense!" The color mounted to the old lady's forehead, and she spoke sharply: "We didn't hear anything about that when he was a lad, and we were afraid of something amiss with his lungs: it would have been high treason to say a syllable against him then. And now, though I suppose he will always be a little delicate (you'd be sorry if you lost him, Godfrey), it's a shame to talk as if the boys were not to be compared. They are just of a height, not half an inch difference, and the one as brave and manly as the other. Horace is fair, and Percival is dark; and you know, as well as I do, that Horace is the handsomer." Mr. Thorne shifted his ground: "If I were Sissy I would choose my husband for qualities that are rather more than skin-deep." "By all means. And still I would choose Horace." "What is amiss with Percival?" "He is not so frank and open. I don't want to say anything against him--I like Percival--but I wish he were not quite so reserved." "What next?" said Mr. Thorne with a short laugh. "Why, only this morning you said he talked more than Horace." "Talked? Oh yes, Percival can talk, and about himself too," said Mrs. Middleton with a smile. "But he can keep his secrets all the time. I don't want to say anything against him: I like him very much--" "No doubt," said Mr. Thorne. "But I don't feel quite sure that I know him. He isn't like Horace. You know Horace's friends--" "Trust me for that."