The Challoners were holding up their heads in the place now. There was no denying that. By the people at the vicarage and the White House they were owned and regarded as equals. Mrs. Cheyne made no secret of her affection for Phillis; and she was full of kindness also to Nan and Dulce. It was their own fault if they declined her frequent invitations. But there was one person who refused to hold out the hand of amity to the eccentric new-comers. Colonel Middleton still shook his white head, and delivered his protest into his daughter's ear. Elizabeth, declared, laughingly, "that the Challoner girls were to her father what a red rag is to a bull." He never met one of them without coming home and relieving his mind, as he called it. "My father is dying to know them," she would say to Mr. Drummond. "He has fallen in love with them all,--mother and daughters too; but he is denying himself an introduction for a certain reason." But, though Archie looked curious and questioned her very closely, she chose to be provoking and say no more. It was Colonel Middleton who at last enlightened the young man. They were walking from the town together. The colonel was carrying his stick musket-wise over his shoulder, and had the vicar by the arm, when Phillis and Dulce came out of the gateway of the White House. As the girls passed Archie, they smiled at him and nodded, and Phillis, in a pretty way she had, waved her hand; and then they went on rapidly towards the Friary. As they did so, Colonel Middleton groaned, and touched his companion's arm impressively. "There, now, Drummond, did you ever see girls with a better carriage?--heads up--light springy step? Why, it is a pleasure even to an old fellow like myself to watch them. Fancy that taller one on horseback in the Row! Why, she would cut out half the girls. And think that one dare not notice them!" And he struck his stick into the ground almost angrily. Archie smiled: he could not help it. The colonel was so whimsical in his wrath. "They had plenty of notice from the folk at the White House," he returned, quietly. "Ah, Cheyne was always a bit of a Radical, and madam is no better. They can do as they like, without being afraid of consequences. But that is not my case." And, as Archie looked at him rather mystified, he went on: "Bless me, you do not suppose I am afraid of knowing them for my own sake? Elizabeth tells me that she is intimate with them. But that is not my business, so long as she does not have them at Brooklyn. 'We must draw the line there, Elizabeth,' I said. 'If you choose to visit your dressmakers, it is not for me to prevent you; you are old enough to select your own friends, so you may be as eccentric as you like. But your brother is coming home. Young men are young men; and I do not choose to expose Hammond to such temptation.'" "Oh, Hammond! That is your son, I suppose?" asked Archie, who was much amused at the colonel's earnestness.