"I am interested in Sidney; she is a little different from most girls; it comes of being chiefly associated with men. Her mother died when she was five. She had a brother two years younger than herself. He was in the Navy, and a rollicking sailor he was, but he died of fever a few years ago. It was a great grief to the Admiral. She is straight and blunt at times, and has no airs or graces, but she is not quite so masculine as Monica." Then the old lady rambled on about some of Monica's misdemeanours, and Randolph hardly heeded her. The sudden appearance of Chuckles, demanding his presence at the sheep-shearing, made him change his company, and for a time his thoughts. Sidney, if he had only known it, was at the same time discussing him with her father. Admiral Urquhart spent most of his afternoons on the lower lawn by the river. Sidney established him there, with his pipe and newspaper, with clockwork regularity directly luncheon was over. He had his own chair, and Major Urquhart had his, but the Major was not a slave to his afternoon nap as was the Admiral. He was a restless man by nature, and generally had more on hand than he could possibly get through. He seldom sat down till tea-time. It was half-past three now, and in her white linen dress and cool shady hat, Sidney approached her father with her work-basket under her arm. "Now, dad, I'm ready if you are. The leading article first of all, please, and then details after." Admiral Urquhart turned over the sheet of the "Times" with alacrity. There was nothing he enjoyed more than reading the paper to his daughter and discussing the degeneracy of old England. But he paused for a moment, paper in hand. "A nice fellow, Neville is; very like his father, who was the most ultra-conscientious beggar that I ever came across. But it was his own undoing. He never did much in politics." "I don't know anything about the Nevilles. Tell me about them." Sidney settled herself with her work under the shady beech that grew down so close, to the river. Her father responded: