ut I would make a new part for Mr.
Clinton, and he should be quite welcome to any finery in my possession
except Charles's plume. This concession was no difficulty to me. Bad
as our tempers are, I am thankful to say they are not mean ones. If I
dressed out Mr. Clinton at all, it would come natural to do it
liberally. I would do all this--_if I could_. I might break down into
passion at the mere sight of Philip and the properties, but at least I
would begin "as if I knew I should persevere."

At this moment the front door was shut with a bang which shook the
house.

It was Philip going to catch the 4.15. I bit my lips, and began to
pull on my boots, watching the red sun as it sank over the waste of
marshland which I could see from my window. I must try to overtake
him, but I could run well, and I suspected that he would not walk
fast. I did not believe that he was really pleased at the break-up of
our plans and the prospect of a public exposure of our squabbles,
though as a family we are always willing to make fools of ourselves
rather than conciliate each other.

My things were soon on, and I hurried from my room. In the window-seat
of the corridor was Alice. The sight of her reproached me. She slept
in my room, but I jealously retained full power over it, and when I
locked myself in she dared not disturb me.

"I'm afraid you've been wanting to come in," said I. "Do go in now."

"Thank you," said Alice, "I've nowhere to go to." Then tightening her
lips, she added, "Philip's gone."

"I know," said I. "I'm going to try and get him back." Alice stared in
amazement.

"You always do spoil Philip, because he's your twin," she said, at
last; "you wouldn't do it for me."

"Oh, Alice, you don't know. I'd much rather do it for you, girls are
so much less aggravating than boys. But don't try and make it harder
for me to make peace."

"I beg your pardon, Isobel. If you do, you're an angel. I couldn't, to
save my life."

At the head of the stairs I met Charles.

"He's gone," said he significantly, and bestriding the balustrades, he
shot to the foot. When I reached him he was pinching the biceps muscle
of his arm.

"Feel, Isobel," said he, "It's hard, isn't it?"

"Very, Charles, but I'm in a hurry."

"Look here," he continued, with an ugly expression on his face, "I'm
going into training. I'm going to eat bits of raw mutton, and
dumb-bell. Wait a year, wait half a year, and I shall be able to
thrash him. I'll make