me head, "Vivian
is going to be didactic! I think this conversation has lasted quite long
enough. Elizabeth, consider yourself worsted in the argument, and
contest the point no longer."

"There has been no argument," said Elizabeth. "There has been assertion
on your part, and indignation on ours; that is all."

"Then am I to consider myself worsted?" asked Percival. But he got no
answer. Presently, however, he burst out with renewed vigour.

"Right and wrong! What does it mean? I hate the very sound of the words.
What is right to me is wrong to you, and _vice versa_. It's all a matter
of convention. 'Now, who shall arbitrate? as Browning says--

'Now, who shall arbitrate?
Ten men love what I hate,
Shun what I follow, slight what I receive;
Ten, who in ears and eyes
Match me; we all surmise,
They, this thing, and I, that; whom shall my soul believe?"

The lines rang out boldly upon the listeners' ears. Percival was one of
the few men who can venture to recite poetry without making themselves
ridiculous. He continued hotly--

"There is neither truth nor falsehood in the world, and those who aver
that there is are either impostors or dupes."

"Ah," said Vivian, "you remind me of Bacon's celebrated sentence--'Many
there be that say with jesting Pilate, What is truth? but do not wait
for an answer.'"

"I think you have both quoted quite enough," said Kitty, lightly. "You
forget how little I understand of these deep subjects. I don't know how
it is, but Percival always says the things most calculated to annoy
people; he never visits papa's studio without abusing modern art, or
meets a doctor without sneering at the medical profession, or loses an
opportunity of telling Elizabeth, who loves truth for its own sake, that
he enjoys trickery and falsehood, and thinks it clever to tell lies."

"Very well put, Kitty," said Percival, approvingly. "You have hit off
your brother's amiable character to the life. Like the child in the
story, I could never tell why people loved me so, but now I know."

There was a general laugh, and also a discordant clatter at the other
end of the room, where the children, hitherto unnoticed, had come to
blows over a broken toy.

"What a noise they make!" said Percival, with a frown.

"Perhaps they had better go away," murmured Mrs. Heron, gently. "Dear
Lizzy, will you look after them a little? They are always good with
you."

The girl rose and went silen