"Why should we pore over moths and zoophytes, and puzzle our brains with long Greek and Latin names," demanded Jessie, "when our own species affords an inexhaustible variety of creatures, all infinitely interesting. These Vandeleur girls are as new to me as if they had dropped from Mars or Saturn." Life, therefore, to all outward seeming, went very pleasantly at Mount Royal. A perfectly appointed house in which money is spent lavishly can hardly fail to be agreeable to those casual inmates who have nothing to do with its maintenance. To Dopsy and Mopsy Mount Royal was a terrestrial paradise. They had never imagined an existence so entirely blissful. This perfumed atmosphere--this unfailing procession of luxurious meals--no cold mutton to hang on hand--no beggarly mutation from bacon to bloater and bloater to bacon at breakfast-time--no wolf at the door. "To think that money can make all this difference," exclaimed Mopsy, as she sat with Dopsy on a heather-covered knoll waiting for the shooters to join them at luncheon, while the servants grouped themselves respectfully a little way off with the break and horses. "Won't it be too dreadful to have to go home again?" "Loathsome!" said Dopsy, whose conversational strength consisted in the liberal use of about half a dozen vigorous epithets. "I wish there were some rich young men staying here, that one might get a chance of promotion." "Rich men never marry poor girls," answered Mopsy, dejectedly, "unless the girl is a famous beauty or a favourite actress. You and I are nothing. Heaven only knows what is to become of us when the pater dies. Jack will never be able to give us free quarters. We shall have to go out as shop girls. We're a great deal too ignorant for governesses." "I shall go on the stage," said Dopsy, with decision. "I may not be handsome--but I can sing in tune, and my feet and ankles have always been my strong point. All the rest is leather and prunella, as Shakespeare says." "I shall engage myself to Spiers and Pond," said Mopsy. "It must be a more lively life, and doesn't require either voice or ankles--which I"--rather vindictively--"do not possess. Of course Jack won't like it--but I can't help that." Thus, in the face of all that is loveliest and most poetical in Nature--the dreamy moorland--the distant sea--the Lion-rock with the afternoon sunshine on it--the blue boundless sky--and one far-away sail, silvered with light, standing out against the low dark line of Lundy Island--debated Mopsy and Dopsy, waiting with keen appetites for the game pasty, and the welcome bottle or two of Moët, which they were to share with the sportsmen. While these damsels thus beguiled the autumn afternoon, Christabel and Jessie had sallied out alone for one of their old rambles; such a solitary walk as had been their delight in the careless long ago, before ever passionate love, and sorrow, his handmaiden, came to Mount Royal.