ou, very much,
my dear Colonel," says Virtue; "there never was surely such a kind,
affectionate, unselfish creature as you are, and so indulgent for
children, but my boys and yours are brought up on a _very different
plan_. Excuse me for saying that I do not think it is advisable that
they should even see too much of each other, Clive's company is not good
for them."

"Great heavens, Maria!" cries the Colonel, starting up, "do you mean that
my boy's society is not good enough for any boy alive?"

Maria turned very red; she had said not more than she meant, but more
than she meant to say. "My dear Colonel, how hot we are! how angry you
Indian gentlemen become with us poor women! Your boy is much older than
mine. He lives with artists, with all sorts of eccentric people. Our
children are bred on _quite a different plan_. Hobson will succeed his
father in the bank, and dear Samuel, I trust, will go into the church. I
told you before the views I had regarding the boys; but it was most kind
of you to think of them--most generous and kind."

"That nabob of ours is a queer fish," Hobson Newcome remarked to his
nephew Barnes. "He is as proud as Lucifer; he is always taking huff about
one thing or the other. He went off in a fume the other night because
your aunt objected to his taking the boys to the play. And then he flew
out about his boy, and said that my wife insulted him! I used to like
that boy. Before his father came he was a good lad enough--a jolly, brave
little fellow. But since he has taken this madcap freak of turning
painter there is no understanding the chap. I don't care what a fellow
is, if he is a good fellow, but a painter is no trade at all! I don't
like it, Barnes!"

To Lady Ann Newcome the Colonel's society was more welcome than to her
sister-in-law, and the affectionate gentleman never tired of doing
kindnesses for her children, and consoled himself as best he might for
Clive's absences with his nephews and nieces, especially with Ethel, for
whom his admiration conceived at first sight never diminished. He found
a fine occupation in breaking a pretty little horse for her, of which he
made her a present, and there was no horse in the Park that was so
handsome, and surely no girl who looked more beautiful than Ethel Newcome
with her broad hat and red ribbon, with her thick black locks waving
round her bright face, galloping along the ride on "Bhurtpore."
Occasionally Clive was at their riding-parties, bu