gain. Smooth him down. Great mistake to quarrel with one's
neighbours."

Philippa looked her brother over, her head erect, her shoulders squared
in the defiant manner he had learned to know. She made no reply in
words, but he understood full well what was meant by that look. If he
were prepared to give in meekly, she was not; if he would not fight for
the rights of the family, she would do it for him; and it would not be
to-day nor to-morrow either that she would write an apology in response
to so audacious a complaint.

All that evening Philippa sat with pursed-up lips, composing and
revising an answer which should be at once haughty, sarcastic, and to
the point; and no sooner was Stephen safely out of the way next morning
than it was written, submitted to Theo for professional revision, and
safely deposited in the "Hermit's" letter-box:

"Miss Charrington is in receipt of an anonymous letter, the source of
which, however, she is at no lose to decide. She agrees with the writer
that forbearance and consideration are necessary where several tenants
live beneath the same roof, but she would impress upon his notice that
such consideration should be mutual and not one-sided. It is
unreasonable to expect a large and still young family"--["Still young!
he won't like that--it implies that he is so old himself!"]--"to live in
a condition of absolute inaction; and repeated and varied
complaints"--["That means the rapping on the ceiling"]--"are at least as
disagreeable to its members as their musical efforts appear to be to
their neighbour."

"That ought to settle him for some time to come," cried the girls
complacently; and when by chance they met the "Hermit" on the stairs
they stared at him beneath haughtily contracted brows, and held their
skirts well to the side, lest by chance they should brush against him as
they passed.

November was half-way through when a second letter arrived to introduce
a little excitement into the daily routine. It bore the postmark of a
small Norfolk township, on the borders of which Mr Loftus had his
shooting-box. It was addressed to Hope, and was of an import which
brought a flush of excitement to her cheeks. Her "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" of
surprise were aggravatingly uninstructive, and in the end Madge took
forcible possession of the sheet, and glancing over it rapidly, read out
the sentences in slow, sententious accents:

"My dear Hope,--As the address will show, we are staying in Nor