up French and German,
Bertie--

He shrugged his shoulders.

'Don't spoil the passing hour, child. I should think you would be glad
enough to get away from it all.'

'I do want to get on,' said Constance. 'I must, you know, more than ever
now.'

'Oh, you mean that mad fancy of going and being a teacher?'

'It is not a bit mad, Herbert. Rose does not think it is, and I want you
to stand by me if mamma and Ida make objections.'

'Girls are always in such a hurry,' grumbled Herbert. 'You need not make
a stir about it yet. You won't be able to begin for ever so long.'

Rose agreed with him that it would be much wiser not to broach the
subject till Constance was old enough to begin the preparation, though,
with the impatience of youth to express its designs and give them form,
she did not like the delay.

'I tell you what, Con,' finally said Herbert, 'if you set mother and Ida
worrying before their time, I shall vote it all rot, and not say a word
to help you.'

Which disposed of the subject for the time, and left them to discuss
happily Constance's travels and Herbert's new tutor and companions till
their arrival at Westhaven, where Constance's welcome was quite a
secondary thing to Herbert's, as she well knew it would be, nor felt it
as a grievance, though she was somewhat amazed at seeing him fervently
embraced, and absolutely cried over, with 'Oh, my poor injured boy!'

Herbert did not like it at all, and disengaging himself rapidly, growled
out his favourite expletive of 'Rot! Have done with that!'

He was greatly admired for his utter impatience of commiseration, but
there was no doubt that the disappointment was far greater to his mother
and Ida than to himself. He cared little for what did not make any
actual difference to his present life, whereas to them the glory and
honour of his heirship and the future hopes were everything--and
Constance's manifest delight in the joy of her uncle and aunt, and her
girlish interest in the baby, were to their eyes unfeeling folly, if not
absolute unkindness to her brother.

'Dear little baby, indeed!' said Ida scornfully. 'Nasty little wretch, I
say. One good thing is, up in that cold place all this time he's sure
not to live.'

Herbert whistled. 'That's coming it rather strong.' And Constance, with
tears starting to her eyes, said, 'For shame, Ida, how can you be so
wicked! Think of Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary!'

'I believe you care for them more than