“The trouble is,” said her brother to his wife, “these men don’t know what they are talking about; they don’t know anything about the market; they don’t know anything about the necessities of trade; all they know is their dividends; if _they_ were cut, there’d be a howl! But they presume to dictate to us; to tell us the money is blood-money; all the same, they are ready enough to spend it on their own carcasses!” Mrs. Eaton had closed the door on her children, and came and stood by a little silver-cluttered table, under the big yellow lamp. “I think Robert is quite right,” she said. The approval of this mild creature was like an edge laid against the tense thread of Robert Blair’s anger. He burst into a laugh. “Bless your heart, Lydia, I didn’t know you were in the room. Well, my dear, I’m glad you approve of me.” “I don’t, brother.” “Oh, you don’t? Where are the chicks? Sent them out of the room because I used bad words? Well, I oughtn’t to swear in the drawing-room, that’s a fact. _Place aux Dames!_ But after all, I only dropped the ‘_place_.’” “Oh!” his wife said; and then, “you are very naughty;” and pouted, and pulled him down on his knees beside her. “I thought it was very natural to be angry at the rug,” Mrs. Eaton said breathlessly; “I’ve often felt like speaking that way myself”-- “Do, Lydia, do!” Mr. Blair interrupted, with a laugh. “--but Mr. Eaton would never have allowed the children to hear, and”-- “Come, now! Haven’t I apologized? Don’t rub it in. I’ll give you something extra to put in the plate on Sunday, because I did pitch into your man Hudson like the devil! I told him so long as he spent ‘blood-money’ for his darned improvements, he couldn’t reproach me for earning it.” “Oh,” Lydia Eaton said, her hands squeezed together,--“oh, no! He is quite different from--me. It is _you_ who are spending the--blood-money on the improvements. If he were spending it on himself, like--like me, it would be different.” Her brother looked up at her from his footstool at his wife’s feet, first amused, and then bored. “My dear Lily, I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m sorry if I stepped on your toes about your parson. He means well. Only he is a parson, so I suppose he can’t help being rather ladylike in business matters. Do drop the subject; I am sick of the whole thing. How is your conservatory, Nell? Are those violets the result of your agricultural efforts?” “I think, Robert,” his sister said in her low voice, that shivered and broke, “I must just say one thing more: I must give you back this beautiful thing you gave me at dinner. And I must go away with the children.”