“Well, Heigham, so you have made up your mind to brave these barbarous wilds, have you?  I am delighted to see you, but I must warn you that, beyond a pipe and a glass of grog in the evening, I have not much time to put at your disposal.  We are rather a curious household.  I don’t know whether Angela has told you, but for one thing we do not take our meals together, so you will have to make your choice between the dining-room and the nursery, for my daughter is not out of the nursery yet;” and he gave a little laugh.  “On the whole, perhaps you had better be relegated to the nursery; it will, at any rate, be more amusing to you that the society of a morose old fellow like myself.  And, besides, I am very irregular in my habits.  Angela, you are staring at me again; I should be so very much obliged if you would look the other way.  I only hope, Heigham, that old Pigott won’t talk your head off; she has got a dreadful tongue.  Well, don’t let me keep you any longer; it is a lovely day for the time of year.  Try to amuse yourself somehow, and I hope for your sake that Angela will not occupy herself with you as she does with me, by staring as though she wished to examine your brains and backbone.  Good-by for the present.”

“What does he mean?” asked Arthur, as soon as they were fairly outside the door, “about your staring at him?”

“Mean!” answered poor Angela, who looked as though she were going to cry.  “I wish I could tell you; all I know is that he cannot bear me to look at him—­he is always complaining of it.  That is why we do not take our meals together—­at least, I believe it is.  He detests my being near him.  I am sure I don’t know why; it makes me very unhappy.  I cannot see anything different in my eyes from anybody else’s, can you?” and she turned them, swimming as they were with tears of mortification, full upon Arthur.

He scrutinized their depths very closely, so closely indeed, that presently she turned them away again with a blush.

“Well,” she said, “I am sure you have looked long enough.  Are they different?”

“Very different,” replied the oracle, with enthusiasm.

“How?”

“Well, they—­they are larger.”

“Is that all?”

“And they are deeper.”

“Deeper—­that is nothing.  I want to know if they produce any unpleasant effect upon you—­different from other people’s eyes, I mean?”

“Well, if you ask me, I am afraid that your eyes do produce a strange effect upon me, but I cannot say that it is an unpleasant one.  But you did not look long enough for me to form a really sound opinion.  Let us try again.”

“No, I will not; and I do believe that you are laughing at me.  I think that is very unkind;” and she marched on in silence.

“Don’t be angry with me, or I shall be miserable.  I really was not laughing at you; only, if you knew what wonderful eyes you have got, you would not ask such ridiculous questions about them.  Your father must be a strange man to get such ideas.  I am sure I should be delighted if you would look at me all day long.  But tell me something more about your father:  he interests me very much.”