Nobody can expect to escape unpleasant facts," said Ernest.

"Then for heaven's sake, let us purchase with them something worth
having!" Hadria cried.

"Hear, hear!" assented Algitha.

"Unpleasant facts being a foregone conclusion," Hadria added, "the point
to aim at obviously is _interesting_ facts--and plenty of them."

Ernest flicked a pebble off the parapet of the balustrade of the little
temple, and watched it fall, with a silent splash, into the river.

"I never met girls before, who wanted to come out of their cotton-wool,"
he observed. "I thought girls loved cotton-wool. They always seem to."

"Girls _seem_ an astonishing number of things that they are not,"
said Hadria, "especially to men. A poor benighted man might as well try
to get on to confidential terms with the Sphinx, as to learn the real
thoughts and wishes of a girl."

"You two are exceptional, you see," said Ernest.

"Oh, _everybody's_ exceptional, if you only knew it!" exclaimed his
sister. "Girls;" she went on to assert, "are stuffed with certain
stereotyped sentiments from their infancy, and when that painful process
is completed, intelligent philosophers come and smile upon the victims,
and point to them as proofs of the intentions of Nature regarding our
sex, admirable examples of the unvarying instincts of the feminine
creature. In fact," Hadria added with a laugh, "it's as if the trainer
of that troop of performing poodles that we saw, the other day, at
Ballochcoil, were to assure the spectators that the amiable animals were
inspired, from birth, by a heaven-implanted yearning to jump through
hoops, and walk about on their hind legs----"

"But there _are_ such things as natural instincts," said Ernest.

"There _are_ such things as acquired tricks," returned Hadria.

A loud shout, accompanied by the barking of several dogs, announced the
approach of the two younger boys. Boys and dogs had been taking their
morning bath in the river.

"You have broken in upon a most interesting discourse," said Ernest.
"Hadria was really coming out."

This led to a general uproar.

When peace was restored, the conversation went on in desultory fashion.
Ernest and Hadria fell apart into a more serious talk. These two had
always been "chums," from the time when they used to play at building
houses of bricks on the nursery floor. There was deep and true affection
between them.

The day broke into splendour, and the warm rays, rounding the edge of