’Larry, you warned me against Mrs. Veale. Now I warn you to have no hand in this save to hold it back. It must not be; and for you to share in it will be scandalous.’ ’How the owls are hooting! To-whoo! Whoo! Whoo! I wonder what sort of voice the old white owl has. He goes about noiseless, like a bit of cotton grass blown by the wind.’ Then Honor went back to what she was speaking of before. ’It goes to my heart to see good land neglected. Your nettle-seeds sow our land, and thistle-heads blow over our hedge. Now that your father is not what he was, you should grasp the plough-handle firmly. Larry, you know the knack of the plough. Throw your weight on the handles. If you do not, what happens?’ ’The plough throws you.’ ’Yes, flings you up and falls over. It is so with the farm. Throw your whole weight on it, through your arms, or it will throw you.’ ’That old snorer is waking,’ said Hillary. ’You love pleasure, and do not care for work,’ pursued Honor. ’You are good-natured, and are everyone’s friend and your own enemy. You shut your eyes to your proper interest and open your purse to the parish. The bee and the wasp both build combs, both fly over the same flowers and enjoy the same summer, but one gathers honey and the other emptiness. Larry, do not be offended with me if I speak the truth. The girls flirt with you and flatter you, and the elder folk call you a Merry Andrew, and say you have no mischief in you, and it is a pity you have not brains. That is not true. You have brains, but you do not use them. Larry, you have no sister and no mother to speak openly to you. Let me speak to you as if I were your sister, and take it well, as it is meant.’ So she talked to him. Her voice was soft and low, her tone tremulous. She was afraid to hurt him, and yet desirous to let him know his duty. She was stirred to the depth of her heart by the events of the day. Larry was unaccustomed to rebuke. He knew that she spoke the truth, but it wounded his vanity, as well as flattered it, to be taken to task by her. It wounded him, because it showed him he was no hero in her eyes; it flattered him, because he saw that she took a strong interest in his welfare. He tried to vindicate himself. She listened patiently; his excuses were lame. She beat them aside with a few direct words. ’Do not be offended with me,’ she pleaded, turning her face to him, and then the moonlight fell over her noble features; the potato sack had slipped back. ’I think of you, dear Larry, as a brother, as a kind brother who has done many a good turn to us, and I feel for you as an elder sister.’ ’But, Honor, you are younger than I am by eighteen months.’ ’I am older in experience, Larry; in that I am very, very old. You are not angry with me?’ ’No, Honor, but I am not as bad as you make out.’