"We may have set them fancying," said Florella. "I could have fancied things myself, after you had been whispering and scuttering about those passages. And, remember, I don't feel bound to keep up the idea." "It was rather disappointing," said Cosy, reflectively; "because the boys never took any notice. I don't believe they heard us, the walls are so thick. But there, Flo," she added, laughing, "it was just a bit of fun. And there are times when I feel as if I _must_--well--kick up a shindy. It's the shape in which I feel the fires of youth." "That's all very well," said Florella. "You kick up a good many shindies. But I don't like making fun of what I don't understand." "I don't see all the new pseudo-science," returned Constancy. "I think it's all a delusion." "I wonder if Guy Waynflete thinks so," said Florella, thoughtfully, as she went to dress. PART ONE, CHAPTER SIX. GOOD COMRADES. Under a great copper-beech on the lawn at Ingleby one hot afternoon, Godfrey Waynflete was enjoying the "summer feeling" on which Constancy Vyner had expatiated in London, and was spending an idle hour in teaching his young Skye terrier to jump over a stick. Rawdon Crawley, a name appropriate to the creature's hairy simplicity, was a long grey object, like a caterpillar, with huge pricked black ears, and an expression which combined guileless innocence and philosophic power. Nevertheless, when he was coaxed, he ran under the stick, and when he was threatened, he sat still and sulked, for the perverseness of his race is fathomless. "You confounded little obstinate beggar," cried Godfrey, shaking the stick at him; "you'll have to learn who's master." Rawdon Crawley wriggled away to some distance, like a snake, then lay with his face on his paws, looking at his owner. "Eh, Godfrey, ye're letting that pup get the better of ye!" "He'd die rather than give in," said Godfrey, as his old aunt came across the lawn towards him. The last five years had increased Mrs Waynflete's wrinkles, but she was still upright, slim, and vigorous, enjoying the presence of her younger nephew, and, possibly also, the elder one's absence. The expression is rather strong; but Guy was so uncongenial to her that his presence could not be said to add to her happiness. "Eh, well," she said; "I like a man that can speak up to you, and has got some grit. I've no opinion of limp characters." "Things generally settle themselves if a fellow looks them in the face," said Godfrey, cheerfully. "Ay, but they don't always settle themselves to our liking. I'd like, maybe, to look myself back into a young woman; but I'm in my eighty-two, and there's no help for it." "Eh, what, auntie? You're as young as the best of us," said Godfrey, warmly.