Captain King was dutifully grateful for this condescension. He said he also hated pompous people--he couldn't bear them. And then he asked about Tom's sister Edith. 'She's engaged to be married, isn't she?' 'It's my belief,' said Mr. Tom, with a smile, 'that she has engaged herself to both of them, just to make sure; and that she can't make up her mind which to send off. I don't wonder at her pulling a wry mouth about having to marry a soda-water manufacturer; but Soda-water isn't half a bad sort of fellow, and he is fearfully rich. You see he is particularly beaming just now, for there have been two or three blazing hot summers running, and the demand must have been tremendous. Then young Thynne, he's no end of a swell, no doubt; but you may be cousin to all kinds of earls and dukes without their giving you anything. I should fancy his father lets him have two or three hundred a year. I should like to see the Sentimental get along with that! You can't live on a fellow's ancestry. I think she should take Soda-water, even if he hasn't got anything like a father to speak of. And even if he hasn't got a father--this was what Nan said--he might be equally "_sans pere et sans reproche_."' 'It was your sister Anne said that, was it?' remarked Frank King, quickly. 'That was in her saucy days,' said Mr. Tom, sadly. 'It's quite different now. Now she's on the pious lay.' 'The what?' said Frank King. It was clear that, however Mr. Tom had altered, he had not chosen to improve his manner of speech. 'Oh, High Church and reredoses,' said the irreverent youth. 'Silver embroideries, don't you know, and visiting the poor, and catching all sorts of confounded infection. And then I suppose she'll end by marrying that curate that's always about the house. What a shame it is! She used to be such a brick. And to go and marry a curate.' 'I heard of that, too,' said Captain Frank, with a bit of a sigh. It was indeed among the first things he had heard after returning to England. By this time they had reached Mr. Tom's club, which was pleasantly situated at a corner of the great thoroughfare, so that it had from its coffee-room windows a spacious view, and was altogether a light and cheerful sort of place. 'But you don't ask about the Baby,' said Mr. Tom, as he was entering his friend's name in the strangers' book--the Waterloo being a hospitable little club that allowed visitors to come in at any hour. 'And the Baby _is_ in a hole.' 'Well, it must be a sad thing for a baby to be in a hole; but I don't quite understand,' said Captain King. 'Don't you remember the Baby? The youngest--Madge?' 'Oh. Well, I only saw her once, I think. What is the matter with her?' 'First pick out what you want for lunch, and then I'll tell you.'