Nothing could of course be fixed till the Major had “seen about it.”  After which he was to come to let Lady Temple know the result; but she believed he would first go to Scotland to see his brother.  He and his brother were the only survivors of a large family, and he had been on foreign service for twelve years, so that it would be very selfish to wish him not to take full time at home.  “Selfish,” thought Rachel; “if he will only stay away long enough, you shall learn, my dear, how well you can do without him!”

The boys had interrupted the conversation less than the previous one, because the lesser ones were asleep, or walking out, and the elder ones having learnt that a new week was to be begun steadily with lessons, thought it advisable to bring themselves as little into notice as possible; but fate was sure to pursue them sooner or later, for Rachel had come down resolved on testing their acquirements, and deciding on the method to be pursued with them; and though their mamma, with a curtain instinctive shrinking both for them and for herself, had put off the ordeal to the utmost by listening to all the counsel about her affairs, it was not to be averted.

“Now, Fanny, since it seems that more cannot be done at present, let us see about the children’s education.  Where are their books?”

“We have very few books,” said Fanny, hesitating; “we had not much choice where we were.”

“You should have written to me for a selection.”

“Why—­so we would, but there was always a talk of sending Conrade and Francis home.  I am afraid you will think them very backward, dear Rachel, especially Francie; but it is not their fault, dear children, and they are not used to strangers,” added Fanny, nervously.

“I do not mean to be a stranger,” said Rachel.

And while Fanny, in confusion, made loving protestations about not meaning that, Rachel stepped out upon the lawn, and in her clear voice called “Conrade, Francis!” No answer.  She called “Conrade” again, and louder, then turned round with “where can they be—­not gone down on the beach?”

“Oh, dear no, I trust not,” said the mother, flurried, and coming to the window with a call that seemed to Rachel’s ears like the roar of a sucking dove.

But from behind the bushes forth came the two young gentlemen, their black garments considerably streaked with the green marks of laurel climbing.

“Oh, my dears, what figures you are!  Go to Coombe and get yourselves brushed, and wash your hands, and then come down, and bring your lesson books.”

Rachel prognosticated that these preparations would be made the occasion, of much waste of time; but she was answered, and with rather surprised eyes, that they had never been allowed to come into the drawing-room without looking like little gentlemen.

“But you are not living in state here,” said Rachel; “I never could enter into the cult some people, mamma especially, pay to their drawing-room.”