"Not a bit of it, madam. By George, no! Ladies? Why, they have always seemed to be studies to me--objects of natural history. Very beautiful from their construction, and I shouldn't have noticed these two only that, by George! I've got to take charge of them--deliver them safe and sound to their papas--with care--this side up; and the first thing I find is that they've got eyes that will drive our young fellows wild, and one of them--the peep out of paradise one--knows it too. Nice job for a quiet old bachelor, eh?" "You don't tell us anything about yourself, Harry," said the Reverend Arthur; and Miss Rosebury seemed a little more at her ease. "Nothing to tell you, my boy. Claret? Yes, thanks. Have you such a thing as a lemon, Miss Rosebury?" Miss Rosebury had, and as she rang she smiled with satisfaction at being able to supply the wants of the bright little man who had been so true a friend to her brother in the days gone by. "Thank you, Miss Rosebury. Tumbler--water. Thanks. The lemon is, I think, the king of fruits, and invaluable to man. Deliciously acid, a marvellous quencher of thirst, a corrective, highly aromatic, a perfect boon. I would leave all the finest wines in the world for a lemon." "Then you believe all intoxicating drinks to be bad, doctor?" said Miss Rosebury, eagerly. "Except whiskey, my dear madam," said the doctor, with a twinkle of the eye. "Ah!" said Miss Rosebury, and the eager smile upon her lips faded; but as she saw the zest with which the doctor rolled the lemon soft, and after cutting it in half, squeezed the juice and pulp into his glass, she relaxed a little, and directly afterwards began to beam, as the doctor suddenly exclaimed: "There, madam, smell my hands! There's scent! Talk of eau-de-cologne, and millefleurs, and jockey club! Nothing to it! But come, Arthur, you don't tell me about yourself." "About myself," said the Reverend Arthur, smiling blandly; "I have nothing to tell. You have seen my village; you have looked at my church; you have been through my garden; and you have had a rummage in my study. There is my life." "A blessed one--a happy one, my dear Arthur. A perfect little home, presided over by a lady whose presence shows itself at every turn. Miss Rosebury," said the doctor, rising, "when I think of my own vagabond life, journeying here and there with my regiment through heat and cold, in civilisation and out, and after many wanderings, come back to this peaceful spot, this little haven of rest, I see what a happy man my old friend must be, and I envy him with all my heart." He reseated himself, and Miss Rosebury's lips ceased to be compressed into a tight line; and as she smiled and nodded pleasantly, she glanced across at her brother, to see if he would speak, before replying that, pleasant as their home was, they had their troubles in the parish. "And I have no end of trouble with Arthur," she continued. "He is so terribly forgetful!"