"Silence, miserable one! The appearance is of no account," pronounced Marie boldly. "To be good is better than beauty." Geoffrey drew his brows together in a frown. He was displeased, and when he was displeased he made himself felt. "I should fink, Marie," he said deliberately, "that you must be the goodest person in all the world." The inference was plain, so plain that sensitive little Jack coloured up to the roots of his hair. Jack was the sweetest and most lovable of children--a flaxen-haired cherub, whose winning face and gentle ways made him universally beloved. Among the children of the second generation he stood out pre-eminently, and every one of his aunts and uncles enshrined him in a special niche of affection. Pixie had known many searchings of heart because of her own partiality, but was fain to console herself by the thought that Jack was even more like the beloved Bridgie than Bridgie's own sturdy, commonplace son. As for Jack, he loved everybody, Marie among the number, and, feeling her depreciated, rushed stutteringly to the rescue. "Oh, Geoff!" he cried eagerly. "You souldn't! You souldn't, Geoff! I know somefing that's uglier than Marie--" Geoff's scowl deepened. He might insinuate, but a barefaced putting into words outraged his feelings. His eyes sent out flashes of lightning at the innocent little blunderer, but Marie's eyes shone; her face was one beam of tender amusement. "What then, _cherie_? Tell thy Marie!" "M-monkeys!" lisped Jack. The roar of derision which greeted this consolatory statement brought the startled tears into Jack's eyes, but Marie's arms wrapped round him, and her voice cooed in his ear. "Little pigeon! little cabbage! Weep not, my darling! Marie does not laugh. Marie understands. It is true! The monkeys are more ugly than I." Pixie turned, to find Esmeralda standing beside her, her brows frowning, while her lips smiled. She put her hand through her sister's arm and drew her away. "Leave them alone; Marie manages them best. Poor, weeny Jack! He meant so well!" She drew a long sigh. "Those two boys are just a newer edition of their parents. Little Jack is Geoffrey over again--just the same kind, patient, sensitive disposition; and Geoff is me. When he is in one of his moods it's like looking at myself in a mental glass. I'm furious with him for showing me how hateful I can be, and at the same time I understand what he is feeling so well that my heart nearly breaks with sympathy. It's terrible to feel that one is showing a bad example to one's own child, when one cares so much that at any moment one would be willingly flayed alive to do him good!" "Improve your example, me dear--wouldn't that be simpler!" cried Pixie, with an air of breezy common sense which was in startling contrast to the other's tragic fervour.