ed,
that they felt themselves bound to be patient and forbearing. As Meta
said, "If they showed themselves wilful children, they certainly did not
deserve to be trusted anywhere."

Lord Cosham made his niece listen to a kind exhortation not to press her
influence towards a decision that might be repented, when too late to be
repaired, without a degrading sense of failure--putting her in mind of
the privations that would lose romance by their pettiness, and which
money could not remedy; and very sensibly representing that the effect
of these on temper and health was to be duly considered as a serious
impediment to usefulness.

"It would be worse for him alone," said Meta.

"That is not certain," said her uncle. "A broken-down wife is a terrible
drag."

"I know it is so," said Meta firmly, "but risks must be run, and he is
willing to take the chance. I do not think it can be presumption, for,
you know, I am strong; and Dr. May would say if he could not warrant me.
I fancy household work would be more satisfactory and less tiring than
doing a season thoroughly, and I mean to go through a course of Finchley
manuals in preparation."

"I hope you know what you are doing," sighed her uncle. "You see it all
couleur de rose."

"I think not. It is because it is not couleur de rose that I am so much
bent upon it. I have had plenty of that all my life. I expect much that
will be very disagreeable and not at all heroic; but if I can only make
Norman think it fun, that will be one purpose answered. I do believe he
will do his work better for having me, and, at least, I shall pay his
passage."

Her uncle shook his head, but did not try to say any more. George
had begun by loud exclamations against the project, in which he was
vehemently abetted by Tom, who primed him with all sorts of outrageous
abuse of the niggers and cannibals, who would make Norman's coats out of
all shape, and devour little Meta at a mouthful--predictions which Meta
accepted most merrily, talking of herself so resignedly, as bound upon
a spit, and calling out to be roasted slower and faster, that she safely
conducted off their opposition by way of a standing joke. As to Norman's
coats, she threatened to make them herself, and silenced Tom for ever
by supposing, in malicious simplicity, that he must be able to teach her
the most unexceptional cut.

Flora kept her opinions to herself. Only once, when urged to
remonstrate, she said, "I could not--I would