"My dear Mrs. Newbold, what can I say? Miss Darling is doubtless a thoroughly good young lady, but more after the hearts and tastes of younger men than such a graybeard as I. Do not, I beg of you, make any efforts in the young-lady line on my behalf, I ask nothing better than a good share of your company, and an hour or two of romps with my little god-daughter. I shall be more than blessed if you will put up with my dulness." "What a very pretty speech, Philip, it is quite refreshing to my old married ears; very well, you may sacrifice yourself on the altar of decorum and innocence if you like, I will not say you nay. The men of our party I think you know; besides Jack Howard we have handsome Freddy Slade--the beauty of the day--and one or two inoffensive lads to fetch and carry. And so you don't think either of my graces worthy your consideration, Philip? Yet I do believe each one of them owns a good and true heart, in spite of their individual fads." "I do not doubt it," answered Mr. Tremain; "but seriously, my dear Esther, you must surely know that having suffered once in that way, I am not likely to be easily attracted again. I fancy the woman who could win my cynical and fastidious heart, has not yet come from the other world; she must needs combine all the beauties of the graces, the attributes of the muses, and be withal, like Cæsar's wife, above suspicion. Find me such a divinity, Esther, or else I shall wait for your own little Marianne." A silence followed Philip's half-jesting, half-bitter reply, broken at last by Mrs. Newbold's lightest laugh, as she asked: "Do you like my ponies? George gave them to me on my last birthday; Dick Darling christened them, Rock and Taffy; hard and soft, you know, or dependable and doubtful, or any opposing virtues you choose to select. Now then, here we are," as she turned her ponies cleverly over an awkward incline, and dashed through the gates. "Shall we join the world at lawn-tennis, or will you come in with me and have a cup of tea?" "With you, if you please," answered Philip, mock-pleadingly. "My dear Mrs. Newbold, don't deliver me into the hands of the Philistines prematurely." Esther's blithe laugh rang out merrily as they sped up the long avenue, shaded by the rows of graceful elm trees on either side; she brought the ponies to the door with a workmanlike flourish, and scarcely touching Philip's assisting hand, sprang out and was up the low broad steps before him. "Let us have tea at once, Long. This way, Mr. Tremain."