Each was sure she was right, that all the others were wrong, and so they went on, laughing, explaining, exclaiming, and declaiming; the Rev. Mr. Heath looking on amused and puzzled, and wondering on what mighty deed these vivacious creatures were intent. "How provoking that Cyril cannot act as umpire," said Laura; "but of course he knows nothing about it." "What is there, pray, that I know nothing about?" he cried. "Why, how to darn a stocking, to be sure." "Ah, I have you there," he said, gravely. "Hand me the biggest hole you have." "As if I _could_ hand a hole!" "Here's one of your own unconscionable hose," said Laura, "with holes as large as oranges. Oh, Cyril, how can you go so? Just suppose you should break your leg sometime, and somebody take off your boot and see such holes!" "Oh, yes, and suppose when the surgeon comes to set my limb, you refuse to let him approach me lest he should discover my holey habits. There, I defy any of you to mend a hole as quickly as I have just mended this." The grey stocking was passed from hand to hand and received due disgust from every feminine soul. Mr. Heath had gathered the hole into a hard bunch and tied it with a bit of twine. "Well, now, I maintain that my way is the only true and proper one," he declared; "it saves time, saves eye-sight, saves yarn, and has the merit of originality." "Oh, you men!" said Belle. "Mamma, you ought to have seen his clothes when he got home from his last European trip. They were a series of just such bunches, and all his white garments were tied up with black thread, and all the buttons sewed on his coats and pantaloons had been sewed on with white." While this skirmish was going on, Margaret had finished her work and slipped off to the children. It was Saturday's work, but she had neglected it, and everything else in her absorption in her new delight. "Where's Mag?" asked Laura, suddenly missing her. "In the nursery, I'll venture to say," said Mrs. Grey. "She's a perfect enthusiast about those buntlings," said Mr. Heath. "So she is about everything," said Mrs. Grey. "But the last idea, whatever it may be, fills her full, and she can only, by a great struggle with herself, find interest in anything else." "What an inconvenient character to possess," said Mr. Heath. "It is fortunate for my people that I am not of that sort. Fancy my spending weeks shut up sermonizing, and then forsaking that sort of work, and taking to visiting; and then staying both employments and falling to reading." "Why, I don't know that it would be so much amiss," said Laura. "You could make up a batch of sermons when the mood was on you, and that care off your mind you could wander round your parish at your own sweet will, and then, as you would have written and talked yourself out, you might, very properly, read yourself up again." "There's no use in discussing Margaret," said Mrs. Grey. "You can't, any of you, possibly understand her, in this short time."