Jack, having thrown himself down beside her, pulled at the heather in silence, watching her secretly. “What do you think about when you sit here by yourself?” he asked suddenly. “It seems as if it must be so awfully slow.” “Oh, no, it isn’t at all slow,” she answered simply. “But what do you think about?” he reiterated. “I don’t think I could explain,” slowly, “except that it’s just everything.” There was a short silence, then he said: “You and Paddy are very different, aren’t you?” And she smiled as she answered in the affirmative. “I shouldn’t think sisters are often so different,” he went on. “Aunt Jane and Aunt Mary are almost exactly alike. There isn’t much difference between Kathleen and Doreen Blake, either,” he added, as if leading up to something, and then blurted out a little awkwardly, “I suppose you’re very glad they’re coming back?” “Yes,” Eileen replied simply; “aren’t you?” Jack did not reply, but remarked instead: “I don’t suppose Lawrence will stay at home long. This place is much too tame for him.” Eileen only gazed fixedly at the distant sea. “I can’t say I think it will be much loss to the neighbourhood,” continued outspoken Jack. “He does fancy himself so.” “I don’t think he does,” she said. “It is only that the people about here do not appeal to him in some way, and so he stands aloof.” “We’re not clever enough, I suppose; but we could give him points in a good many things, all the same,” a little savagely, biting at a piece of string with his strong white teeth. “What has he ever done beyond taking a few degrees at Oxford?” “You haven’t even done that.” And Eileen turned to him suddenly, with serious eyes. She was the only one of all about him who ever took him to task seriously about his idle life. His aunts were too fond and too indulgent, his father too wrapped up in his books and his loss, and Paddy, being as irresponsible and happy-go-lucky herself, only thought about the good time they were having in the present. Eileen, however, saw further, and sometimes tried to influence him. He was silent now before the veiled reproach in her words, but presently, with an irresistible little smile, he said. “You wouldn’t have me go away and leave Aunt Jane and Aunt Mary weeping over my empty chair and old shoes and things, would you?” “Perhaps you will have to go some day,” she said. “Yes, but why worry about it now? Sufficient unto the day—” “Yes; only you are wasting your best years.” “Oh, I don’t think so, and I’m not doing any harm to anyone.” “You may be harming yourself.” “How?” Eileen gazed dreamily before her, and presently said: “You see, I don’t think life is altogether meant to be just a playtime for anyone. We have to make our five talents ten talents.” “But not all in a great hurry at the beginning.” “It is possible to put things off too long, though.”