"What shall we do if the horses are sold?" she exclaimed, as Hilda got into the little bed beside hers. "Only imagine! no hunting next winter! at least, none for us!" "Poor papa," Hilda sighed. "Oh, you may be sure that he will keep one hunter at least, but of course he will be dreadfully cut off from it with only one, and of course our horses will have to go if the worst comes to the worst. You won't miss it as much as I will, Hilda; the riding, yes, no doubt, but not the hunting. Still Lord Mainwaring will give us a mount, and now that Mr. Odd is here, he will be sure to have a lot of horses. The old squire let everything of that sort run down so, Miss Odd had only two hunters. Well, Hilda, and what do you think of Mr. Odd?" "Oh, I love him, Katherine!" Hilda lay looking with wide eyes into the soft darkness of the room. The windows were open, and the drawn chintz curtains flapped gently against the sills. "I wouldn't say that if I were you, Hilda," Katherine remarked, with some disapproval. "Why not?" Hilda's voice held an alarmed note. Katherine was, to a great extent, her mentor. "It doesn't sound very--dignified. Of course you are only a little girl, but still--one doesn't say such things." "But I do love him; how can one help loving a person who treats one so kindly. And then--anyway--even if he had not been kind to me I should love him, I think." Hilda would have liked to be able properly to analyze her sensations and win her sister's approval; but how explain clearly? "That would be rather foolish," Katherine said, in a tone of kind but restraining wisdom; "one shouldn't let one's feelings run away with one like that. Shall I tell you what _I_ think about Mr. Odd?" "Oh yes, please." "I think he is like the river where we jumped in to-day--ripples on the top, kindness and smiles, you know--but somewhere in his heart a big hole--a hole with stones and weeds in it." Katherine was quoting from her journal, but Hilda might as well think the simile improvised: Katherine felt some pride in it; it certainly justified, she thought, the conventionally illicit act of the candle. Hilda lay in silent admiration. "Oh, Katherine, I never know how I feel things till you tell me like that," she said at last. "How beautiful! Yes, I am sure he has a hole in his heart." And tears came into Hilda's eyes and into her mind the line:-- "Allone, withouten any companye." "As for Mrs. Odd," Katherine continued, pleased with the success of her psychology, "she has no heart to make a hole in." "Katherine, do you think so? How dreadful!" "She is a thorough egotist. She doesn't know much either, Hilda, for when Darwin came in she laughed a lot at the name and said she wouldn't be paid to read him--the real Darwin." "Perhaps she likes other things best." "Herself," said Katherine decisively. "Miss Odd of course we have had time to make up our minds about." "I like her; don't you? She has such a clear, trustful face."