“At least twenty years. It was while we were in Malta.” “Who would have thought of those dear Stokesley cousins having such a skeleton in their cupboard?” “Ah! my dear, no one knows the secrets of others’ hearts.” “And you really think that this Miss Prescott was his love?” “I know it was the same name, and Bessie told me that he used to talk to her of his Magdalen, or Maidie; and when I heard of your meeting her at Castle Towers I wondered if it were the same. And now I see what she is, and what she is undertaking for these young sisters; I have wondered whether your uncle was wise to insist on the utter break, and whether she might not have been an anchor to hold him fast to his moorings.” “Only,” said Mysie, “if he had really cared, would he have let his father break it off so entirely?” “I think your uncle expected implicit obedience.” “But—,” said Mysie, and left the rest unsaid, while both she and her mother went off into meditations on different lines on the exigencies of parental discipline and of the requirements of full-grown hearts. And, on the whole, the younger one was the most for strict obedience, the experienced parent in favour of liberty. But then Mysie was old-fashioned and dutiful. CHAPTER V—CLIPSTONE FRIENDS “What idle progeny succeed To chase the rolling circle’s speed, Or urge the flying ball.”—GRAY. THE afternoon at Clipstone was a success. Gillian was at home, and every one found congeners. Lady Merrifield’s sister, Miss Mohun, pounced upon Miss Prescott as a coadjutor in the alphabet of good works needed in the neglected district of Arnscombe, where Mr. Earl was wifeless, and the farm ladies heedless; but they were interrupted by Mysie running up to claim Miss Prescott for a game at croquet. “Uncle Redgie was so glad to see the hoops come into fashion again,” and Vera and Paula hardly knew the game, they had always played at lawn tennis; but they were delighted to learn, for Uncle Redgie proved to be a very fine-looking retired General, and there was a lad besides, grown to manly height; and one boy, at home for Easter, who, caring not for croquet, went with Primrose to exhibit to Thekla the tame menagerie, where a mungoose, called of course Raki raki, was the last acquisition. She was also shown the kittens of the beloved Begum, and presented with Phœbus, a tabby with a wise face and a head marked like a Greek lyre, to be transplanted to the Goyle in due time. “If Sister will let me have it,” said Thekla. “Of course she will,” said Primrose. “Mysie says she is so jolly.” “Dear me! all the girls at our school said she was a regular Old Maid.” “What shocking bad form!” exclaimed Primrose. “Just like cads of girls,” muttered Fergus, unheard; for Thekla continued—“Why, they said she must be our maiden aunt, instead of our sister.” “The best thing going!” said Fergus. “Maiden aunts in books are always horrid,” said Thekla.