"Ah! Letitia, that is all very well; but mothers' hearts are the same, whether their sons are good or bad. It seems to me that mothers generally love the children best, that give them the most trouble. However, the poor fellow is gone, bag and baggage. I went to Bath with him, and delivered him over to Mr. Crawford, a steady-going man he seems, and Melville will not have a chance of getting into mischief under his care, I hope. But it is an expensive matter. I had to put a hundred pounds into Crawford's keeping as a start; besides twenty I gave Melville." "You ought not to have given him more than five pounds," Miss Falconer said. "The whole management of Melville has been a mistake." "So you have told me before," said the squire. "My dear Letitia, single women always think they know a great deal about the affairs of married people, and, as experience is wanting, they commonly know nothing." "I have long since given up arguing the point with you, Arthur; however, let us say no more. I only hope that Melville may return a changed character, and then you will not regret this outlay for him. I only wish Joyce had some of the money spent on _her_." "Joyce!" the squire exclaimed--a smile breaking over his fine face; "Joyce! all the money in the world could not improve her. She is my joy and comfort. I half grudge letting her go to Barley Wood, even for a short visit." "You ought to be glad that she has had such an invitation; and, really, you have to thank me for it, Arthur. I take such a deep interest in Joyce. I have often tried to put before you what she needs, and now I have great hope that Mrs. More may suggest some plan for her." The squire began to feel very impatient; his sister's interest in his children was undoubted, but he did not want to have it perpetually brought before him. Miss Falconer had an unfortunate habit of sounding her own excellencies, especially with regard to her nieces and nephews. Then there were often little side hits at his wife; and it is always hard for a man like the squire, to be reminded that his sisters do not consider his wife their equal in the social scale, and the nearer the truth the less palatable is the assertion of it. "Is not Charlotte ready?" he exclaimed. "Joyce will be waiting at Draycot, where we are to pick her up. Thomas was to drive her there with her box, as he had an errand at Farmer Scott's." "In what did Joyce drive?" "In the gig; and Joyce likes to pay Mrs. Scott, who is a sad cripple, a visit sometimes, so it all fitted in very well. Come Charlotte, my dear," he said, turning to his niece. "We shall find the four-wheel at the 'Swan,' and I've the ostler at the Close gate waiting to take your luggage. Two boxes! Joyce only took one." "Charlotte was obliged to have a bonnet-box," her aunt said. "Her Tuscan bonnet would have been ruined with the dust if she had worn it."