"I know it would, but I should have asked him, nevertheless, if I had been in your place. It is a great mistake to allow the fear of being impertinent to prevent one from obtaining useful and interesting information. But were there no photographs of her about the place?" "I don't know, I never noticed any; but you know I am a poor hand at noticing things," replied Arthur, with some truth. I nodded. "Pray don't mention it; it is a peculiarity of yours too obvious to require remark. But for goodness' sake get on about Wildacre!" "To cut a long story short," said Arthur (a thing, by the way, which he was constitutionally incapable of doing), "he explained to me that he had sent for me because all his own relations were dead, and his wife's people, though well-to-do, had risen from too humble a rank of life to be entrusted altogether with the upbringing of his children, and he did not think it fair to the children to trust them after his death into an inferior social position to that to which they had been born. They would be comfortably provided for--about eight hundred a year each--but he felt they must have some one of his own rank of life to look after them until they were of age and capable of looking after themselves. You see, Reggie, there are so many temptations to beset the feet of the young--and especially if they have no competent person to guide and shelter them." "Skip the temptations of the young," I said, "and get on with Wildacre's death." Blathwayte's amiability was imperturbable, so he merely smiled indulgently as he endeavoured, as far as in him lay, to obey my behest. He was an excellent fellow in every respect, and I had the deepest regard and affection for him, but he was apt to drop into preaching unless carefully watched. "Well, then, to come to the point, he wanted to know if I would consent to be the children's guardian until they came of age. There was no one else he should be so happy to leave them with, he said; but he felt that, being a parson, I should look after them and see that they didn't get into mischief, and all that, don't you know!" This was a bomb-shell indeed: the reverend and middle-aged Arthur suddenly converted into an amateur _pater-familias_! "And you consented?" I asked. "Of course. What else could I do when Wildacre asked me, and he was dying?" That was exactly like Arthur: the thought of himself, and of the upset to his peaceful bachelor existence by the advent of two children into the well-ordered rectory, never once entered into his calculations. "What age are they?" I asked. "Eighteen. They are both leaving school this term, and the boy is dreadfully backward; I am going to cram him for Oxford." We were both silent for a moment; then I felt myself smiling. "It will be rather fun, don't you think?" I ventured to remark.