“Oh, no such philanthropy, my dear. It is homeliness, or rather homeyness, that is dear to my bourgeoise mind. I was afraid of spick-and-span, sap-green aestheticism, but those curtains have done their own fading in pleasing shades, that good old sofa can be lain upon, and there’s a real comfortable crack on that frame; while as to the chiffonier, is not it the marrow of the one Mrs. Froggatt left us, where Wilmet kept all the things in want of mending?” “Ah! didn’t you shudder when she turned the key?” said Lance. “Not knowing what was good for me.” “But you will send for some of our things and make it nice,” entreated Anna, “or Gerald will never stay here.” “Never fear; we’ll have it presentable by the vacation. As for Uncle Clement, he would never see whether he was in a hermit’s cell, if he only had one arm-chair and one print from Raffaelle.” There was a certain arch ring in her voice that had long been absent, and Anna looked joyous as she waited on them both. “I am glad you brought her,” said Lance, as she set off with Uncle Clement’s tea. “Yes, she would not hear of the charms of the season.” “So much the better for her. She is a good girl, and will be all the happier down here, as well as better. There’s a whole hive of Merrifields to make merry with her; and, by the bye, Cherry, what should you think of housing a little chap for the school here where Fergus Merrifield is?” “Your dear little Felix? Delightful!” “_Ouf_! No, he is booked for our grammar school.” “The grammar school was not good for any of you, except the one whom nothing hurt.” “It is very different now. I have full confidence in the head, and the tone is improved throughout. Till my boys are ready for a public school I had rather they were among our own people. No, Cherry, I can’t do it, I can’t give up the delight of him yet; no, I can’t, nor lose his little voice out of the choir, and have his music spoilt.” “I don’t wonder.” “I don’t think I spoil him. I really have flogged him once,” said Lance, half wistfully, half playfully. “How proud you are of it.” “It was for maltreating little Joan Vanderkist, though if it had only been her brother, I should have said, ‘Go it, boys.’ It was not till afterwards that it turned out that Joan was too loyal not to bear the penalty of having tied our little Audrey into a chair to be pelted with horse-chestnuts.” “At Adrian’s bidding?” “Of course. I fancy the Harewood boys set him on. And what I thought of was sending Adrian here to be schooled at Mrs. Edgar’s, boarded by you, mothered by Anna, and altogether saved from being made utterly detestable, as he will inevitably be if he remains to tyrannize over Vale Leston.” “Would his mother consent?” “You know he is entirely in Clement’s power.” “It would only be another worry for Clement.”