Mrs. Whitwell suggested a compromise, and the baby was eventually named Thomasine Grace Whitwell. But she had always been called Tom, and to please her father she had endeavoured to live up to her name. She early learned to ride and row and play cricket. Her brown hair was cut short and parted on one side, and she wore the most gentlemanly hats, jackets, collars, boots, and gloves that could be bought. She cultivated the lower notes of her voice, and when asked to sing professed herself “only able to do bass.” She was fond of mathematics and science, and considered herself a very logical reasoner. She was a doughty defender of women, but a merciless critic of their weaknesses. She tried to look at things from a man’s standpoint, and laughed at the pleasures and pursuits of her own sex. But she did not do this when one of her friends, Margaret Miller, was near, for Margaret had a way of smiling quietly, and saying, “There is no more womanly woman living, really, at heart, you know, than little Tom Whitwell.” John Dallington thought that she looked as fresh as the morning; her clear grey eyes were bright with pleasure; and as she glanced into her cousin’s face her cheeks glowed, and she was a vision of health and happiness that quite delighted him. Tom had always been a favourite with John, and he was unfeignedly glad to see her now. “You have really got back, John! And how well you look!” “So do you, Tom; and not a day older than when I went away.” “Oh, thank you! You have grown polite, I find. I cannot return the compliment, for you look about ten years older.” “Do I indeed? I am glad of that. I want to be old, to inspire you all with respect. Will you have some breakfast, Tom?” “If I do, it will be the third this morning. The air makes one hungry. How do you like England, John?” “I like it very much. I have been long enough away to make me think the old country charming.” “‘No place like home,’ and all that sort of thing, I suppose?” “Oh, yes! And ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ and all that sort of thing. You look splendid, Tom; and I do believe you have grown. Would not you like to see the places I have seen?” “I would, indeed. You have been everywhere, haven’t you? And I have been staying in England all the time. It is well to be you, John.” “That is precisely my opinion. But I have seen nothing more beautiful than the view from this window.” “Really?” “And truly. Of course I have seen many places a thousand times more magnificent, but none more lovely and picturesque. The world altogether is very beautiful, Tom. You come upon proofs of it in unexpected places. There are countries that everybody visits for the sake of their mountains or their rivers, or some special features of interest; but those less known are not the least lovely, and I have frequently enjoyed most when I have expected nothing.” “It is not a very happy world, though, John.” “I think it is! What has given you that idea?”