“Oh, what a lovely Florentine mosaic!” exclaimed Cecil, who had taken but slight interest in this itinerary.  “It is just like a weight at Dunstone.”  Then opening a miniature-case, “Who is this—­ Mrs. Poynsett when she was young?”

“Most likely,” said Rosamond.  “It is like her now, and very like Charlie.”

“Yes.  Charles is quite unlike the family.”

“What family?” said Rosamond.

“The Charnocks, of course.  Raymond is a perfect Charnock!”

“A vast advantage,” murmured Rosamond.

“Of course,” said Cecil, taking it quite seriously.  “No one else could be the same thing to us.  Papa said there was not a match in the whole world that could have gratified him so much.”

“How old are you, Cecil?” quoth Rosamond, with a ripple in her voice.

“Oh, his age was no matter.  I don’t like young men.  That’s not the drawback; no, it is that horrid Poynsett at the end of the name.”

“You see you had better have waived your objections to youth, and taken a younger son.”

“I couldn’t,” said this naive young person.  “Besides, there is much more of a field for me here than at Dunstone since papa’s marriage.”

Whatever Rosamond had on the tip of her tongue was averted by the entrance of the three younger brothers.  Julius seated himself beside her in the cushioned fireside corner; and Cecil asked where Raymond was.

“Just stepped in to see my mother,” said Frank.  “This room opens into hers.  Will you come to them?”

“Not yet,” said Cecil.  “I want you to tell me about the neighbourhood.”

“Just what I want,” said Rosamond.  “Whenever I ask, Julius always says there’s Dr. Easterby.”

Frank and Charlie burst out laughing.

“Dr. Easterby is one of the greatest men in the English Church,” said Julius.

“Precisely!  But what is the regiment at Backsworth?” and as Charlie named it, “Oh, what fun!  That’s where Laurie Cookson exchanged.  He will be sure to send us cards for everything.”

“At Dunstone we never used to go to garrison gaieties,” said Cecil, gravely.

“Oh!  I’m a military pariah,” said Rosamond, hastily.

“Who are the land-owners?” continued Cecil.  “There was a place I saw from the line, but Raymond didn’t hear when I asked whose it was.  Close to the station, I mean.”

“That is Sirenwood,” said Charles.  “Sir Harry Vivian’s.  He is just come back there with his two daughters.”

“I thought Emily Vivian was dead,” said Julius.  “You don’t mean that women!”

“That woman?” laughed his wife.  “What has she done to be a that woman?”

“Offended his Reverence,” said Frank, in that sort of jocose tone which betrays annoyance.

“A heartless mischievous woman!” said Julius.

Rosamond cocked up her left eyebrow with an ineffably droll look, which encouraged Charlie to say, “Such fierceness can only be prompted by personal experience.  Look out, Rosamond!”