“She might stand against me,” agreed Mr. Brett reflectively. “I don’t remember that I’ve ever done a thing to hurt her since she was born—still that don’t make any difference, but I don’t advise you to calculate that Elise’ll stand against John. You’re her poor broken-hearted sister all right, all right, but John’s her young husband. If she sees John’s heart being cut into, yours won’t have much of a chance. “She knows she can’t make you happy. “You’ve chosen your sorrows and sit on them with the clinch of a domestic fowl, but Elise can make John happy, and I guess—take it by and large—she will. “But I don’t mind admitting to you, Hermione, that I don’t want this tug of war to come off. Tugs of war suit some people—a frail, broken-hearted, high-brow like yourself finds nourishment in a tug of war; but normal people don’t; and while the dust and the yells are heartening you all up, an unselfish, sensitive girl like Elise gets cut as thin as a wood shaving. I’d take some trouble to keep Elise happy. “Say, Hermione, have you ever been happy? I don’t mean top-dog happy—but _real_ happy, like a field of buttercups in the sun?” Hermione’s lips quivered. “Happiness,” she said, “is not for me.” “Sunshine is for everybody,” said Mr. Brett gently, “who’ll let the sun alone, and like it. “Before you came Elise was happy. She was just like a little open cup filled with gold; you never saw the child so gay; and John was happy; he is the quiet kind that has to hide itself to feel at home, but he sure _was_ at home. They didn’t need any saving—then. “I used to take a power of comfort sitting out under the old yew tree, thinking of those two children off somewhere—with their happiness.” “It wouldn’t have lasted,” said Hermione hurriedly. “Unthinking happiness is the shutting out of life—it leads to selfishness and satiety.” “Don’t you believe it, Hermione,” said Mr. Brett impressively. “It’s decayed teeth give us the toothache, not sweets. Happiness and unhappiness ain’t selfish or unselfish, it depends on who’s got them. “Marie Antoinette was just as unhappy as she could live, but she kicked her throne over and got the guillotine into the family for a necklace of diamonds. You couldn’t make Elise and John selfish, not if you set out and offered them Bond Street. “I don’t know much about religion, what with one thing and another I guess it’s kept me dodging; but I remember being told that by their fruits ye shall know them. Fruits Hermione—that sounds like good sense don’t it, and good sense ought to make good religion. Well, how about your fruits?” “I don’t know what you mean—” said Hermione icily. She would have tossed her head if the pillows had not been too low for it. “I do not think you can find that I have done anything wrong.” Mr. Brett ignored Hermione’s negative standard.