Hal was a nice lad, in spite of the position of exalted lordliness he occupied in the eyes of the household--not forgetting to except Stanley and William. He taught his younger brothers and sisters their place, but not unkindly; he did not talk as eternally of cricket as might have been expected of the captain of the Winborough first eleven, because he did not talk very much at all--it wasn’t done, unless you were a costly gas-bag like Bunny. He ragged Stanley and teased Miss Roberts, and was uncommunicative with his father, like all glorious young heroes of seventeen-and-a-half. His principal occupation was, in the holidays, lounging past the doctor’s house, in a rough greeny-grey tweed coat, on the chance that either of the doctor’s two daughters, Maisie or Dorothy, might be coming out. They were both pretty, and he was quite impartial in his flirting; the latter process only meant a saunter beside one or the other while he described how he would give her tea in his own rooms at college next year, or “quite a costly hop old Dick Fraser lugged me to, night before last. Wish you’d been there, though.” Hal was especially good-natured when people were in trouble--they had to be in real trouble, not just miserable. He let his mother kiss him, whenever she really felt like it; and made his acolyte, Nina, very happy by the simple process of always finding her plenty of work to do in his service; she knitted ties and socks for him, bought his presents for other people, and kept other people well-informed as to the exact shade of his own desires in the way of presents; kept his tennis racquet in its press, and Bunny well aware of his lowliness. What more could a sister do? Hal was without question the most masculine element at the Laburnums--excepting a back-view of William, broad and stolid, bending over a pit that he was digging at the far end of the garden, where the shrubbery degenerated into a mere tangle of shrubs. This pit was one of seven, and when asked what they represented, William said, “Earthworks”; and, if further pressed as to why he dug them--“Because I want to,” after a moment’s quiet and conscientious reflection. Neither Mr. Maxwell nor Stanley Watson, however, was as casually masculine as Hal, because they were more preoccupied with manliness. And Bunny-- “Oh, Bunny’s like a girl,” said Nina, “he shows off!” Bunny was sensitive, too, in addition to all his other palpable faults. [V]