“Oh, I’m most tremendously fit,” replied Doug. “At least--I’m normal. One ought always to feel like this; everybody ought. It’s their own fault if they don’t. Why didn’t you dip today, Teddy? Where’s the old Ruffian? What were you thinking about just before I came out?” “About the Watsons,” said Ursula convincingly; “I was wondering why Stanley’s idea of a holiday was to shave only twice a week, and wear a collar and no tie, and a pencil still clipped to his waistcoat pocket.” “I think he cast his tie out of compliment to me,” laughed Doug; “but his respectability still clung to the neat collar-stud and efficient pencil! He did rather upset the scenery whenever he appeared. The kids were jolly, though--especially the one with the idiot name; she was a real little sport in the water!” Grace and Stanley, with Gums, the four children and Lottie, had recently returned to “Merlin’s Isle” at Buckler’s Cross, after a month’s painstaking holiday enriching Mr. Wenn at the Polpinnock Temperance Hotel. They were very disappointed that Grey Stone had not been able to accommodate them all. “Poor Ursula will be glad to have some of her own family around her,” Grace had explained their choice of a place to Miss Roberts. “A husband isn’t like a sister, after all.” “Not in the least,” Miss Roberts agreed fervently. “And I’ve always longed to see some really _wild_ country....” In fact, she was positively disappointed when the country of Morcar did not rise and spring at her. Ursula did indeed welcome Grace and Lottie warmly. But she would have preferred a visit from Bunny, who, following his destiny, was now black-sheeping it in New Zealand. “Auntie Teddy, what does father mean when he says Uncle Bunny’ll never be anything but a Mittens Man,” Freda, the youngest niece, had inquired. Ursula forthwith sought out Stanley and hotly tackled him. “Look here, Stanley, why do you label poor old Bunny a remittance man?” “My dear Ursula, I don’t want my children to grow up believing there’s anything advisable in not sticking to their home and jobs.” But he re-told the anecdote of the Mittens Man with considerable pride and relish to any one trapped to listen by his off-hand: “Rather a smart thing I heard a kid say the other day. Well, as a matter of fact, it was my own youngster----” Perhaps her brother-in-law’s measured patronage of the rocks and coves, their formation, their antiquity, their historical interest and their effect upon his own psychology (_a_) where they exceeded expectations and (_b_) where they fell below it, had something to do with Ursula’s present apathy towards nature. A yet sadder spectacle was a genial Stanley going about among the fishermen and palling up with them, punning hearty puns to suit their intelligence, or listening with deliberate respect to their views on politics--“You know, Barrison, sometimes these chaps say something worth hearing. They _think_, you know!”