e background; they seemed to play into each other's hand somehow,
and more than once Geraldine was positive she had heard a softly-uttered
'Bravo!' at some of Audrey's ridiculous speeches.

'Come along, then,' returned Audrey good-humouredly; and as they left
the room together, Captain Burnett laid down his book.

'I am afraid she is going to catch it, Cousin Emmeline; it will be a
case of survival of the fittest--Geraldine is strong, but Audrey can
hold her own. I back Audrey.'

'My dear,' remonstrated Mrs. Ross, as she put away her knitting, 'you
talk as though my girls were likely to quarrel. Geraldine is far too
sweet-tempered to quarrel with anyone; she will only give Audrey a
little advice--dear Audrey is dreadfully careless, she takes after her
father in that; John is always doing imprudent things. Geraldine has
made me most uncomfortable this afternoon; I am quite sure that Mrs.
Blake will be an undesirable friend for Audrey.'

'Do you always see through other people's spectacles?' he asked quietly.
'I have a habit of judging things for myself--I never take anything
second-hand; it is such an unpleasant idea, airing other people's
opinions. Fancy a sensible human being turning himself into a sort of
peg or receptacle for other folks' theories! No, thank you, my dear
cousin; my opinions are all stamped with "Michael Burnett, his mark."'

'Men are different,' she replied tranquilly; and then she left him to go
in search of her husband.

'What a world we live in, Booty!' observed Captain Burnett, as he walked
to the window and his four-footed favourite followed him. 'Oh, you want
a run, do you?' as the little animal looked at him wistfully. 'You think
your master uncommonly lazy this afternoon--you don't happen to have a
pain in your leg, do you, old fellow--a nasty gnawing, grumbling sort of
pain?--there is nothing like neuralgia for making a man lazy. Well, I'll
make an effort to oblige you, my friend--so off you go'; and Captain
Burnett threw a stone, and there was a delighted bark and an excited
patter of the short legs, and Booty vanished round a corner, while his
master followed him more slowly.

The garden of Woodcote was the best in Rutherford; even the Hill houses
could not compete with it: an extensive lawn lay before the house, with
a shrubbery on one side, and the trees and shrubs were exceedingly rare;
a little below the house the ground sloped rather steeply, and a
succession of terraces and fl