pe you and your brothers will continue to look upon it as your home
until you have homes of your own."

"Very rash of you!" commented Max, swinging round again to the gate.
"Well, come inside and see it."

They went within, went from room to room of the old place, Max with the
air of a sardonic showman, Mordaunt gravely attentive to details, Chris
light-footed, eager with many ideas for its reformation. The mildewed
walls and partially dismantled rooms, with their moth-eaten furniture and
threadbare carpets, had no damping effect upon her spirits. She had a
boundless faith in her _fiance's_ power to transform her ancient home
into a palace of delight.

"If you really mean to buy it as it stands, I should recommend you to
make a bonfire of the contents," said Max presently, as they stood all
together in the deep bay window of a room on the first floor that looked
out upon the park, with a glimpse beyond of distant hills. "But the place
itself is an absolute ruin. I can't imagine how you are going to patch it
up."

"I think it can be done," Mordaunt said. He was staring out somewhat
absently, and spoke as if his thoughts were wandering.

Both brother and sister glanced at him. Then, "When are you going to get
married?" asked Max.

Mordaunt came out of his reverie. "That," he said deliberately, "has
still to be decided."

"Who is going to decide? You or Chris?" Max lighted another cigarette and
pitched the match, still burning, from the window.

"Oh, Max!" exclaimed Chris. "How dangerous! Look! There is Cinders
sniffing along the terrace! He is sure to burn his nose!"

She was gone with the words, and Max, with a brief laugh, returned to the
charge.

"I conclude the decision rests with her."

"Well?" said Mordaunt. He spoke curtly; perhaps he resented the boy's
interference, or perhaps he had had enough of the subject for that day.

"Look here," said Max. "I know Chris. She will keep you dangling for the
next ten years if you will put up with it. If you want to be married
soon, you will have to assert yourself."

Mordaunt was silent.

Max waited. Below them Chris flashed suddenly into view, darting with a
butterfly grace of movement to the rescue of her pet.

Abruptly Mordaunt spoke. "I sometimes wonder if she is too young to be
married."

"What?" Max removed his cigarette and stared at him. "She is as old as I
am!"

Mordaunt looked back, faintly smiling. "Yes, I know. But--well, that's no
argument,