“All the same a hundred years hence,” he said; and forthwith there commenced on both sides a series of questions and answers necessitated by the separation of several months which had taken place between them. There was much to say. They were on their way to church when the conversation about Arthur and his wife began--about Arthur, who was said to be by no means cured of his reckless habits of extravagance, and whom Horace had parted with only a week before under the portico of the Grand Hotel in Paris. “I didn’t think Sophy improved in looks; but then there is a reason, I believe, for that; and besides, she had been making lion-seeing a toil instead of a pleasure. She is a jolly girl, though; and I consider Arthur to be one of the luckiest fellows I know.” “I wonder if he thinks so himself,” mused Kate. “I daresay not. Do we ever value any of our blessings till we lose them? Do you think I cared much about this dear old place till I found myself tied to that precious office as a paid clerk? Sounds pretty considerable mean, as the Yankees say, doesn’t it, when one’s mamma has something about sixty thousand per annum?” “But you like it, Racy. It’s better than _this_, I’m sure. Ah, how I should like to be you! and how I envy--no, I don’t envy Rhoda, because I’m glad she’s happy, poor dear; but I often think what fun she’s having, and I wonder whether it will ever be my turn to go away.” “Your turn? God knows, my poor Kitty! It takes a longer head than mine or yours to fathom my lady’s projects. I heard from old Randolph the last thing before I left town yesterday that she was after some underhand work about the entail. She’ll never rest, I feel certain, till she upsets that clause, or whatever they call it, in my grandfather’s will which gives the reins of power to Arthur after he attains the age of twenty-five. Poor old Atty! I foresee no end of worry and bother for him if the news of this gets about; but we must hope the best, as Randolph says, while we prepare ourselves for the worst.”