"Why, my dear boy, what can be more absurd than to take a handsome young girl and tell her that men are a kind of wild beast that must never be looked at, much more spoken to--suppressing all the young aspirations of her heart?" "I suppose it would be wrong, Harry." "Wrong and absurd, sir. There is the vigorous young growth that will have play, and you tighten it up in a pair of moral stays, so to speak, with the result that the growth pushes forth in an abnormal way to the detriment of the subject; and in the future you have a moral distortion instead of a healthy young plant. Ha--ha!--ha--ha!" "Why do you laugh?" said the Reverend Arthur. "I think what you have said quite right, only that ladies like the Misses Twettenham are, as it were, forced to a very rigid course." "Yes, yes, exactly. I was laughing because it seems so absurd for a pair of old fogies of bachelors like us to be laying down the law as to the management and training of young girls. But look here, Arthur, old fellow, as I am in for this job of guardian to these girls, I should like to have something intermediate." "Something intermediate? I don't understand you. Thank you; set the coffee down, Betsey." "Hah! Yes; capital cup of coffee, Arthur," said the doctor, after a pause. "Best cup I've tasted for years." "Yes, it is nice," said the Reverend Arthur, smiling, as if gratified at his friend's satisfaction. "My sister always makes it herself." "That woman's a treasure, sir. Might I ask for another cup?" "Of course, my dear Harry. Pray consider that you are at home." The coffee was rung for and brought, after a whispered conversation between Betsey the maid and Miss Mary the mistress. "What did they ring for, Betsey?" asked Miss Mary. "The little gentleman wants some more coffee, ma'am." "Then he likes it," said Miss Mary, who somehow seemed unduly excited. "But hush, Betsey; you must not say `the little gentleman,' but `Dr Bolter.' He is your master's dearest friend." A minute or two later the maid came out from the little dining-room, with scarlet cheeks and wide-open eyes, to where Miss Mary was lying in wait. "Is anything the matter, Betsey?" she asked, anxiously. "No, ma'am, only the little Dr Bolter, ma'am, he took up the cup and smelt it, just as if it was a smelling-bottle or one of master's roses, ma'am." "Yes--yes," whispered Miss Mary, impatiently. "And then he put about ten lumps of sugar in it, ma'am." "How many Betsey?" "Ten big lumps, mum, and tasted; and while I was clearing away he said, `Hambrosher!' I don't know what he meant, but that's what he said, mum." "That will do, Betsey," whispered Miss Mary. "Mind that the heater is very hot. I'll come and cut the bread and butter myself."