‘And oh, Phil dear, you _will_ take Aunt Olive and me to live with you in Ladywell Manor, won’t you? like a sweet angel boy as I know you are! We are so miserable here, though I can’t quite explain why. I think it is the _atmosphere_ of the place that is so oppressive, and the feeling they always try to impress upon us that we are living _on charity_, though I know I’m not. Aunt Olive is a dear old thing; I know you’ll be very fond of her. It would be lovely to live with you at Ladywell, it is such a splendid old place; for Uncle Maynard was not a bit miserly where his house and garden were concerned, and spent any amount of money upon them. We shall be so happy there altogether if you will come and live there, and let us keep house for you. Do, _do_, dear Phil! and mind you come straight off home directly you get this, for we are all just dying to see you. ‘I am nearly twenty-four now, and I think you will find me _rather_ nice-looking. When I am nicely dressed I fancy myself a good deal, but they don’t often give me nice things to wear. But they can’t stop my hair growing thick and long and curling prettily, which it does—beautifully. Matilda has to curl her fringe with tongs, and is always singeing the ends off, and then she looks such a guy; and Bertha wears a false front of ridiculous little curls! She has to put them into curl-papers on damp nights! ‘When I’m twenty-four I ought to be rich; but they tell me now that there’s a condition—I don’t know what—if I don’t do it I shall get very little. I wonder what the condition is. I shall comply with it if I can, for I should like to be rich. I suppose you don’t know any better than I? When my birthday comes I shall be told, I suppose, and that will be very soon indeed now. ‘Good-bye, dearest old boy. Write directly, and say that you’ll come as fast as ever you can travel. I’ve no end more to say, but it’s post-time, and I must stop. Aunt Olive sends best love. ‘Yours for ever, ‘MAUD. ‘Thornton House.’ ‘Well,’ said Tor, laying down this last letter and pushing his hands through his hair, ‘I’ll be hanged if I know what to do!’ He sat still awhile, and then he rose and paced the room in silent thought; and then he sat down again and shook his fist at his unconscious companion. ‘Phil, you villain, why on earth were you such an ass as to get sunstroke at such a critical time as this? A nice puzzle you have put me into! What on earth is to be done? If I write and state Phil’s condition, why then that old scoundrel will go on feathering his nest finely out of this property, and the old aunt and pretty sister will be horribly disappointed and will have to stay on to be bullied by the estimable uncle. And then when Phil does come to himself, he will be sure to be weak in the head for a bit; and he never has too much backbone, and that Belassis will just turn him round his fingers, and goodness knows what the end will be!