"The greatest change we could have would be to be expensive and lazy. It is not my idea of pleasure to stand shivering in a queue for a couple of hours, and hunt for omnibuses after a performance. I want to see how the other people live--the people who toil not, neither wear their last year's clothes! I should like to dine at the Carlton, and sit in the hall after dinner watching the coming and going--the pretty girls in their fashion-plate cloaks, and the old ladies in sables and diamonds, going out to theatres and evening receptions--and watch the flirtations, and listen to Theo making up stories. It would be so good for us both; we should get lots of ideas." "I'm afraid"--began Steve the prudent, but the Hermit did not give him time to finish. "I will engage a table at the Carlton to-morrow morning," he cried. "You shall all come and dine with me. It is a capital idea. I'm very much obliged to Miss Madge for suggesting it." Polite murmurs of dissent greeted this speech. Steve cried, "No, no, my dear fellow; we couldn't think of it." Philippa blushed, and declared, "You mustn't, Mr Neil; you really mustn't." But the Hermit was firm and would brook no refusal. "It is impossible for me to entertain at home, and it is quite time that you dined with me for a change. I have been your guest for about fifty Sunday-night suppers." "Cold roast beef and beetroot in winter; cold lamb and mint-sauce in summer! There is an appalling lack of variety in the menus of an English household," said Madge, with an expressive grimace. "When I am married I shall make a point of serving my loved one with constant surprises." "You will find it more difficult than painting pictures. What is one to do in winter, when poultry is so dear and none of the nice spring things have come in?" queried the dear, literal Martha, looking straight at the Hermit as she spoke, as if asking him to vindicate her housekeeping abilities; the which he proceeded to do with a zeal untempered by knowledge, while Hope studied his face with anxious eyes, and Madge sat silent, a monument of long-chinned solemnity. No further objections were made to the Hermit's invitation--which, in truth, was too tempting to be refused--and the next morning was spent in hunting up old fineries, turning ribbons, washing laces, and sewing them on again in as near an imitation of the latest Parisian fashion as could be obtained with insufficient quantities and 'prentice fingers.