She was discussing the heroine of a book which they had been reading in turns, pointing out the inconsistencies in her behaviour, and expatiating on the superior manner in which she--Mariquita--would have behaved had positions been reversed. Then the boys had described their own imaginary conduct under the trying circumstances, drawing forth peals of derisive laughter from the feminine audience, and the question had finally drifted from “What would you do?” to “What would you be?” with the result that each one was eager to expatiate on his own pet schemes and ambitions. “I should like to come out first in all England in the Local Examinations, get my degree of M.A., and be a teacher in a large High School,” said Esther solemnly. “At Christmas and Easter I would come home and see my friends, and in summer time I’d go abroad and travel, and rub up my languages. Of course, what I should like best would be to be head mistress of Girton, but I could not expect that to come for a good many years. I must be content to work my way up, and I shall be quite happy wherever I am, so long as I am teaching.” “Poor old Esther! and she will wear spectacles, and black alpaca dresses, and woollen mittens on her hands! Can’t I see her!” cried Max, throwing back his head with one of the cheery bursts of laughter which brought his mother’s eyes upon him with a flash of adoring pride. “Now there’s none of that overweening ambition about me. I could bear up if I never saw an improving book again. What _I_ would like would be for some benevolent old millionaire to take a fancy to me, and adopt me as his heir. I feel cut out to be a country gentleman and march about in gaiters and knickerbockers, looking after the property, don’t you know, and interviewing my tenants. I’d be strict with them, but kind at the same time; look into all their grievances, and put them right whenever I could. I’d make it a model place before I’d done with it, and all the people would adore me. That’s my ambition, and a very good one it is too; I defy anyone to have a better.” “I should like to marry a very rich man with a big moustache, and a beautiful house in London with a fireplace in the hall,” cried Mellicent fervently. “I should have carriages and horses, and a diamond necklace and three children; Valentine Roy--that should be the boy--and Hildegarde and Ermyntrude, the girls, and they should have golden hair like Rosalind, and blue eyes, and never wear anything but white, and big silk sashes. I’d have a housekeeper to look after the dinners and things, and a governess for the children, and never do anything myself except give orders and go out to parties. I’d be the happiest woman that ever lived.” Lazy Oswald smiled in complacent fashion.