t had followed more normal lines. He hadn't, in the
manner of Arthur, burst suddenly into blossom. All boys wrote verses.
Often they wrote verses of an amatory character, not particularly
because they happened to be in love, but because the bulk of English
lyrical poetry, to which they went for their models, was, regrettably,
of an amatory character. At this stage in a boy's development, even in
the development of the greatest poets (and Arthur, he noticed in
passing, did not show any signs of amazing genius) the verses were
usually imitative. It rather looked as if he had been reading Herrick,
or possibly the Shakespeare sonnets ... the dark lady, you know.
Seriously, he didn't think there was anything to worry about. He
folded the papers and handed them back to her.

For once in a way Considine didn't satisfy her. There were other
things, she said. Things that she hadn't attached any value to at the
time when they happened, but which now seemed significant. When she
came to think of it Arthur's whole behaviour during the holidays had
been that of a youth who was in love. With all deference to Dr.
Considine she felt that she couldn't pass the matter over. It was her
plain duty to enquire into it, and find, if possible, a more obvious
reason for this strange and sudden outburst.

Considine agreed that no harm could be done by a little quiet
investigation. At the same time he couldn't possibly see what
opportunities Arthur could have had for falling in love at Lapton.

"We're very isolated here," he said. "The Manor is a kingdom in
itself. It seems to me that circumstances would force him to invent an
ideal for the want of any living model."

She shook her head. There was no isolation, she said, into which love
could not enter; and this, in the face of classical precedent,
Considine was forced to admit. Could she, then, make any suggestions?

Mrs. Payne said, "Servants," and blushed.

Considine also blushed, but with irritation. The suggestion brought
the matter uncomfortably near home.

"I think you can put that out of your mind," he said. "I'll admit that
I did not consider this point when I engaged them, but I do not think
you'll find any one peculiarly attractive among them."

"They're women," said Mrs. Payne obstinately.

It seemed to her that Considine's incredulity was forcing them both
into a blind alley.

"If you don't mind," she said, "I think it would be better for me to
talk the m