“I cannot,” he exclaimed; then remembering that vehemence told against him, he added, “Don’t be uneasy; I am a reasonable man, and she is a woman to keep one so; but I think I am useful to her, and I am sure she is useful to me.” “That I allow she has been,” said Mary, looking at her brother’s much improved appearance; “but--” “Moths and candles to wit,” he returned; “but don’t be afraid, I attract no notice, and I think she trusts me about her boys.” “But what is it to come to?” “I have thought of that. Understand that it is enough for me to live near her, and be now and then of some little service to her.” They were interrupted by a note, which Mr. Ogilvie read, and handed to his sister with a smile:-- “DEAR MR. OGILVIE,--Could you and Mary make it convenient to look in this evening? Bobus has horrified his uncle by declining to go up for a scholarship at Eton or Winchester, and I should be very glad to talk it over with you. Also, I shall have to ask you to take little Armine into school after the holidays. “Yours sincerely, “C. O. BROWNLOW.” “What does the boy mean?” asked Mary. “I thought he was the pride of your heart.” “So he is; but he is ahead of his fellows, and ought to be elsewhere. All measures have been taken for sending him up to stand at one of the public schools, but I thought him very passive about it. He is an odd boy--reserved and self-concentrated--quite beyond his uncle’s comprehension, and likely to become headstrong at a blind exercise of authority.” “I used to like Allen best,” said Mary. “He is the pleasantest, but there’s more solid stuff in Bobus. That boy’s school character is perfect, except for a certain cool opinionativeness, which seldom comes out with me, but greatly annoys the undermasters.” “Is he a prig?” “Well, yes, I’m afraid he is. He’s unpopular, for he does not care for games; but his brother is popular enough for both.” “Jock?--the monkey!” “His brains run to mischief. I’ve had to set him more impositions than any boy in the school, and actually to take his form myself, for simply the undermasters can’t keep up discipline or their own tempers. As to poor M. le Blanc, I find him dancing and shrieking with fury in the midst of a circle of snorting, giggling boys; and when he points out ce petit monstre, Jock coolly owns to having translated ‘Croquons les,’ let us croquet them; or ‘Je suis blesse,’ I am blest.” “So the infusion of brains produces too much effervescence.” “Yes, but the whole school has profited, and none more so than No. 2 of the other family, who has quite passed his elder brother, and is above his namesake whenever it is a case of plodding ability versus idle genius. But, after all, how little one can know of one’s boys.” “Or one’s girls,” said Mary, thinking of governess experiences.