“There can be no carrying it by a Coup de main,” said Francis.  “Every inch of the ground must be fought here, as in Britain, but the extent of ground is shorter.”

“I have grown much more patriotic since I was married,” said Brandon.  “The place where you have a real home—­the birthplace of your children—­and where you hope to see them grow up—­becomes very dear to you.  And here are the youngsters!”

Little Maggie Brandon (so called in compliment to Peggy) seemed to know by intuition that there was something for her in the pocket of the worthy woman, and went to her at once; and the others distributed themselves according to their several likings.

“Well,” said Peggy, “I’ve often thought to ask you before, Mrs. Hogarth, but how are you going to educate your lassies?  What are you going to do with them? and you favour lassies in both families—­two to one in each of them.”

“Very much as we were educated ourselves,” said Jane; “with more care taken for the cultivation of their natural tastes, but the groundwork will be the same.”

“That education has certainly turned out admirable wives,” said Francis.

“Speak for yourself, Frank,” said Brandon; “but my wife spoils me, and everybody in the house.  There is a sad want of vinegar in her composition.  She cannot scold her servants—­the mildest approach to it that she ever makes is by saying, ’Mr. Brandon does not like such a thing,’ or that ’Mr. Brandon would be displeased if they do not attend to such another.’  The idea of making a bugbear of me is very ingenious, but I fear not very efficacious, for I know they see through it.  As for me, a penitent recollection of a conversation in an English railway carriage has stopped her mouth for ever, and she never gives me a hard word, however I may deserve it; and for the children, the less we say of them the better.”

“But, Walter, I can keep my servants, and they really do very well; and the children are good enough, and so are you; so there is no need to scold.”

“That is where the dangerous part of this subtle flattery lies; it is so perfectly sincere.  But I suppose we get along pretty well, considering, as Mrs. Grant would say; and I really think her household would be more comfortable if she took a leaf out of my wife’s book.  Her servants will not stay three months with her, and she has three of the most spoiled, exacting children I ever saw—­far worse than their cousins at Wiriwilta were in their worst days.  The Phillipses had spirit, but the Grants have none, except perhaps the spirit of discontent.  I think we might do worse, Peggy, than educate our girls to resemble their mothers.”

“But,” said Jane, “we must make some provision for them also, if we can.  I suppose that I could have got on as well as you, Francis, if I had been a man.”

“Yes, there is nothing I have done that you could not have done as well.  I have as much perseverance as you, but not so much energy.  It is likely you would have made a better figure in the world than I have done.”