“Well, my dear Miss Payne,” began Katherine, who had settled herself comfortably in a corner of the sofa, “I have an important plan in my mind, and I want your co-operation.  I should have written to you about it, only I waited to get Colonel Ormonde’s consent.”

“It’s a man!” ejaculated Miss Payne to herself.

“To begin:  I was not at all satisfied with the boys when I first went to Castleford.  They were not exactly neglected, but they were quite secluded.  Mrs. Ormonde scarcely saw them, and their governess or attendant was not at all lady-like; she speaks with a London accent and misplaces her h’s; altogether she is not the sort of person I should have placed with the boys.  Then the poor little fellows clung to me and monopolized me as if I had been their mother; they made me feel like one.  Moreover, I seemed to see my own dear mother and hear her voice when they spoke to me.  She loved them so much!”

Katherine paused suddenly, but almost immediately resumed:  “The youngest, Charlie, is not yet seven, and is very delicate.  He has had rather a sharp attack of bronchitis.  I am very anxious about him.  How I want to take them to the sea-side next month, and to keep them there all the summer, and I want your help to find a nice place.  I know nothing of the English coast.  More than this:  I feel I could not get on without you, so you must come with us.  Suppose, dear Miss Payne, we take a house with a garden near the sea, and you let this one?  I will gladly pay all extra cost, while our original agreement, as far as I myself am concerned, shall hold good.”

Miss Payne listened attentively to this long speech, the expression of her countenance relaxing; but she did not reply at once.

“I think,” she said, after a moment’s thought, “that you are exceedingly liberal, but I am not sure you are wise.  As far as I am concerned, I should like your plan very much.  I do not profess to be fond of children, but I dare say these little boys would not interfere with me.  As regards yourself, if you keep the children for the whole summer, it is possible Mrs. Ormonde might be inclined to leave them with you altogether, and this would create a burden for you—­a burden you are by no means called upon to bear.  It is a dangerous experiment.”

“Not to me,” returned Katherine, thoughtfully.  “In fact it is a consummation for which I devoutly wish.  I should like to adopt my nephews.”

“That would certainly be foolish.  It would not be kind to the children, Katherine (as you wish me to call you).  In the course of a year or two you will marry, and then the creatures who had learned to love you and look on you as a mother would be again motherless.  Do not take them from their natural guardian.”

“What you say is very reasonable.  You cannot know how certain I feel that I shall not marry.  However, let us leave all that to arrange itself in the future; let us think of the present.  Colonel and Mrs. Ormonde are coming up to town, for two or three months, in May, and I do not like the idea of Cis and Charlie being left behind; so will you help me, my dear Miss Payne?  Shall you mind a spring and summer in some quiet sea-side place?”