This Frank Lauder was rather a favourable specimen of his class; perhaps, in his extreme desire to ingratiate himself with Meenie, he assumed a modesty of demeanour that was not quite natural to him. But his self-satisfied jocosity, his mean interpretation of human motives, his familiarly conventional opinions in all matters connected with the arts, could not always be hidden beneath this mask of meekness; and Meenie’s shrewd eyes had discerned clearly of what kind he was at a very early period of their acquaintance. For one thing, her solitary life in the Highlands had made of her a diligent and extensive reader; while her association with Ronald had taught her keen independence of judgment; and she was almost ashamed to find how absolutely unlettered this youth was, and how he would feebly try to discover what her opinion was, in order to express agreement with it. That was not Ronald’s way. Ronald took her sharply to task when she fell away from his standard—or rather their conjoint standard—in some of her small preferences. Even in music, of which this young gentleman knew a little, his tastes were the tastes of the mob. ’Why do you always get away from the room when Mr. Lauder sits down to the piano?’ her sister said, with some touch of resentment. ’I can endure a little Offenbach,’ she answered saucily, ’when I’m strong and in good health. But we get a little too much of it when he comes here.’ Of course Ronald was given to know of these visits and of their obvious aim; but he did not seem very deeply concerned. ’You know I can’t help it, Ronald,’ she said, one morning, as they were slowly climbing the steep little Randolph Terrace together, her hand resting on his arm. ’I can’t tell him to go away while my sister keeps asking him to the house. They say that a girl can always show by her manner when any attention is displeasing to her. Well, that depends. I can’t be downright rude—I am staying in my sister’s house. And then, I wouldn’t say he was conceited—I wouldn’t say that, Ronald—but—but he is pretty well satisfied with himself; and perhaps not so sensitive about one’s manner towards him as some might be. As for you, Ronald,’ she said, with a laugh, ’I could send you flying, like a bolt from a bow, with a single look.’ ’Could you, lass?’ said he. ’I doubt it. Perhaps I would refuse to budge. I have got charge of you now.’