“If I were na to marry a rich sodger lad My friends would be dismal, my minnie be mad.” “Don’t be so disgusting, Gerald! My friends have too much sense,” cried Anna. “But it is true enough as regards ‘my minnie,’” said Emilia. “Well, eight daughters _are_ serious--baronet’s daughters!” observed Gerald in his teasing voice. “Tocherless lasses without even the long pedigree,” laughed Anna. “Poor mother.” “The pedigree is long enough to make her keep poor Vale Leston suitors at arm’s length,” mumbled Gerald; but the sisters did not hear him, for Emilia was exclaiming-- “I mean to be a worker. I shall make Marilda let me have hospital training, and either go out to Aunt Angela or have a hospital here. Come and help me, Annie.” “I have a hospital here,” laughed Anna. “But, Nan dear, do come! You know such lots of swells. You would get one into real society if one is to have it; Lady Rotherwood, Lady Caergwent, besides all your delightful artist friends; and that would pacify mother, and make it so much pleasanter for me. Oh, if you knew what the evenings are!” “What an inducement!” “It would not be so if Annie were there. We should go out, and miss the horrid aldermanic kind of dinners; and at home, when we had played the two old dears to sleep, as I have to do every night, while they nod over their piquet or backgammon, we could have some fun together! Now, Annie, you would like it. You do care for good society, now don’t you?” “I did enjoy it very much when Aunt Cherry went with me, but--” “No buts, no buts. You would come to the laundry girls, and the cooking-class, and all the rest with me, and we should not have a dreary moment. Have you done fiddling over those flowers?” “Not yet; Vale Leston flowers, you know. Besides, Aunt Cherry can’t bear them not artistic.” “Tidy is enough for Marilda. She does them herself, or the housekeeper; I can’t waste time worrying over them.” “That’s the reason they always look like a gardener’s prize bouquet at a country horticultural show,” said Gerald. “What does it signify? They are only a testimony to Sir Gorgias Midas’ riches. I do hate orchids.” “I wish them on their native rocks, poor things,” said Gerald. “But poor Fernan, you do him an injustice.” “Oh, yes, he does quantities of good works, and so does Marilda, till I am quite sick of hearing of them! The piles of begging letters they get! And then they want them read and explained, and answered sometimes.” “A means of good works,” observed Gerald. “How would you like it? Docketing the crumbs from Dives’ table,” exclaimed Emilia. “A clerk or secretary could do it,” said Anna. “Of course. Now if you have finished those flowers, do come out with me. I want to go into Ponter’s Court, and Fernan won’t let me go alone.” “Have you any special object?” said Gerald lazily, “or is it to refresh yourself with the atmosphere?” “That dear boy--that Silky--has been taken up, and they’ve sent him to a reformatory.”