“It isn’t patchouly. I have my things carefully looked after; that’s why they last so well. I have little bags of camphor in all my dresses. It is good for everything. Many people think it is only moths that camphor is useful for, but it is good for everything, and a very wholesome scent. I hate perfumes myself.” “Who is the little boy?” said Mrs. Berry-Montagu, with a languid smile. “Ah, that is the sore point,” said Lady Randolph. “There is a little brother.” This was echoed by both the ladies in different tones of amazement. “Then how is it that _she_ has the money?” Lady Betsinda asked “It came from Lucy’s mother, the boy had nothing to do with it; he has not a penny. Poor child! I can see Lucy is disturbed about him. He has three thousand pounds, and nothing more.” “Dear Lady Randolph, how good you are,” said Mrs. Berry-Montagu, with gentle derision; “what can you want with a child like this in your house?” “What can I do? Lucy would be wretched without him; he is the only tie she has, the only duty. What am I to do?” Mrs. Berry-Montagu shook her head softly, and smiled once more--smiled with the utmost significance. “You must, indeed, see your way very clearly,” she said, with that gentle languor which sat so well upon her, “when you burden yourself with the boy.” “I don’t know what you mean by seeing my way,” Lady Randolph said, with some heat. An uncomfortable flush came upon her face, and something like consciousness to her manner. “I had no alternative. Taking Lucy, I was almost bound to take her brother too, when I found out her devotion to him.” “Ah, you’re too good, too good, my dear; you don’t think half enough of your own interests,” said Lady Betsinda. “If the girl had come to me I’ll tell you what I should have done. I’d have been kind to her, but not too kind. I’d have let her see clearly that little brothers are sent to school. I’d have given her to understand that I was doing her a great favor in having her at all. She should not have wanted for anything. I don’t advise you or anybody to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, but to make her the chief interest, and everything to give way to her, that’s what I would never do.” “I am afraid I shall have to take my own way, so far as that goes,” said Lady Randolph, roused to a little offense. “Yes, dear, of course you will take your own way, we all do,” said Mrs Berry-Montagu, giving her friend a kiss before she went away, “and I don’t doubt it will all come right in the end.” The two visitors went out together, and they stopped to talk for a moment before they parted at the door of the little stuffy brougham which carried Lady Betsinda from one place to another. “I suppose she has something in her head,” said the old lady. And, “Oh, who can doubt it?” said the other; “Sir Tom!”