a sad day to me when I hear you say so, Hadria!" the sister
exclaimed.

"Algitha, there is just one solitary weapon that _can't_ be taken from a
woman--and so it is considerately left to her. Ah, it is a dangerous toy
when brandished dexterously! Sometimes it sends a man or two away
howling. Our pastors and masters have a wholesome dread of the murderous
thing--and what wails, and satires, and lamentations it inspires!
Consult the literature of all lands and ages! Heaven-piercing! The only
way of dealing with the awkward dilemma is to get the woman persuaded to
be 'good,' and to lay down her weapon of her own accord, and let it
rust. How many women have been so persuaded! Not I!"

"I know, and I understand how you feel; but oh, Hadria, _this_ is not
the way to fight, _this_ will bring no good to anyone. And as for
admiration, the admiration of men--why, you know it is not worth
having--of this sort."

"Oh, do I not know it! It is less than worthless. But I am not seeking
anything of permanent value; I am seeking excitement, and the
superficial satisfaction of brandishing the weapon that everyone would
be charmed to see me lay in the dust. I _won't_ lay it down to please
anybody. Dear me, it will soon rust of its own accord. You might as well
ask some luckless warrior who stands at bay, facing overwhelming odds,
to yield up his sword and leave himself defenceless. It is an insult to
one's common sense."

Algitha's remonstrance seemed only to inflame her sister's mood, so she
said no more. But she watched Hadria's increasingly reckless conduct,
with great uneasiness.

"It really _is_ exciting!" exclaimed Hadria, with a strange smile. The
whole party had migrated for the day, to the hills at a distance of
about ten miles from Craddock Dene. A high spot had been chosen, on the
edge of woodland shade, looking out over a wide distance of plain and
far-off ranges. Here, as Claude Moreton remarked, they were to spoil the
landscape, by taking their luncheon.

"Or what is worse, by giving ourselves rheumatism," added Lord
Engleton.

"What grumbling creatures men are!" exclaimed his wife, "and what
pleasures they lose for themselves and make impossible for others, by
this stupid habit of dwelling upon the disadvantages of a situation,
instead of on its charms."

"We ought to dwell upon the fowl and the magnificent prospect, and
ignore the avenging rheumatism," said Claude Moreton.

"Oh no, guard against it," advised A