‘You will find her very capricious and wilful,’ said Matilda. ‘Mamma has always had great trouble with her. She is a nice child enough, but quite unsuited to such a position.’ ‘Not more so than I am, at any rate. We shall have to learn our duties together.’ ‘You! Oh, it is quite different with you,’ answered Matilda. ‘Anyone can see that you were just made for such a position.’ ‘Nobody ever saw it before,’ answered Tor good-humouredly. ‘Well, well! Maud and I and Aunt Olive must jog along as best we can, and come to you for advice when we are in difficulties.’ ‘Aunt Olive! Is she going to live with you?’ cried Bertha. ‘Yes; Maud will want a chaperon and a companion when I am away. Aunt Olive has kindly consented to fill that office.’ ‘What a great many plans you have made already!’ remarked Bertha sharply. ‘Maud has lost no time.’ ‘Those plans were pretty well made before I reached England,’ answered Tor coolly. ‘Do you not think them excellent?’ Matilda had recovered her smiles, and answered readily: ‘Oh, delightful; only you know they will so soon have to be changed again.’ ‘Why so?’ ‘I mean when Maud marries.’ ‘She is not even engaged as yet, is she?’ ‘Oh, well, I don’t know what you call engaged, but she and Lewis know quite well that when she is twenty-four she will marry him. She has not actually said as much yet, because she has not been told all about it; but Lewis has been in love for years, and she is very fond of him, and of course everybody knows how it will end.’ ‘And then,’ added Bertha, ‘you will lose Maud, and be left lamenting all alone.’ Matilda gave a little conscious laugh. ‘At any rate he need not be alone long, unless he chooses.’ ‘Aunt Olive might consent to stay on,’ acquiesced Tor gravely. The sisters laughed, and Bertha said boldly: ‘Matilda meant that you might get married, but I don’t believe you’d ever be so silly.’ ‘You look upon matrimony as a snare and a delusion, do you?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know that I ever considered the subject particularly; but I know if I were a man, and had led the kind of life you have done, I should be precious careful how I gave up my liberty.’ ‘I should have thought,’ said Matilda softly, ‘that after such a life, a man would feel a great pleasure in settling down in his own home and surrounding himself by family ties. What is your idea, Phil? You ought to be the best judge.’ Tor was thinking of Maud and Lewis, who were on together ahead, and he had not quite caught the drift of the question. ‘I beg your pardon. Were you asking if I intended to get married?’ The girls coloured, and made no very distinct response. ‘That entirely depends,’ went on Tor composedly, ‘upon whether the right woman appears. At my age, I don’t imagine a man often falls in love simply with a pretty face—at least, he is a fool if he does. He looks for character and mind and compatibility of temper.’