still think I'm right," she said gravely. "Mac
likes to idle as well as you, but he is not going to do it because he
knows it's bad for him to fritter away his time. He is going to study
a profession like a wise boy, though he would much prefer to live among
his beloved books or ride his hobbies in peace."

"That's all very well for him, because he doesn't care for society and
may as well be studying medicine as philandering about the woods
with his pockets full of musty philosophers and old-fashioned poets,"
answered Charlie with a shrug which plainly expressed his opinion of
Mac.

"I wonder if musty philosophers, like Socrates and Aristotle, and
old-fashioned poets, like Shakespeare and Milton, are not safer company
for him to keep than some of the more modern friends you have?" said
Rose, remembering Jamie's hints about wild oats, for she could be a
little sharp sometimes and had not lectured "the boys" for so long it
seemed unusually pleasant.

But Charlie changed the subject skillfully by exclaiming with an anxious
expression: "I do believe you are going to be like Aunt Jane, for that's
just the way she comes down on me whenever she gets the chance!
Don't take her for a model, I beg she is a good woman but a mighty
disagreeable one in my humble opinion."

The fear of being disagreeable is a great bugbear to a girl, as this
artful young man well knew, and Rose fell into the trap at once, for
Aunt Jane was far from being her model, though she could not help
respecting her worth.

"Have you given up your painting?" she asked rather abruptly, turning to
a gilded Fra Angelico angel which leaned in the sofa corner.

"Sweetest face I ever saw, and very like you about the eyes, isn't
it?" said Charlie, who seemed to have a Yankee trick of replying to one
question with another.

"I want an answer, not a compliment," and Rose tried to look severe as
she put away the picture more quickly than she had taken it up.

"Have I given up painting? Oh, no! I daub a little in oils, slop a
little in watercolors, sketch now and then, and poke about the studios
when the artistic fit comes on."

"How is the music?"

"More flourishing. I don't practice much, but sing a good deal in
company. Set up a guitar last summer and went troubadouring round in
great style. The girls like it, and it's jolly among the fellows."

"Are you studying anything?"

"Well, I have some lawbooks on my table good, big, wise-looking chaps
and I ta