people's heads. It was accompanied by a careless, good-humored,
unpretending ease, which was almost benevolent, and which was strikingly
different from the self-assertive importance of more nervous (and
smaller) men.

As a family the Harolds had not been loved; they were too self-willed
for that. But they were witty, they could be agreeable; in houses where
it pleased them to be witty and agreeable, they were the most welcome of
guests. The small things of life, what they called the "details," the
tiresome little cares and responsibilities, annoyances, engagements, and
complications, these they shed from themselves as a shaggy dog sheds
water from his coat--they shook them off. People who did not love them
(and these were many) remarked that this was all very pretty, but that
it was also very selfish. The Harolds, if their attention had been
called to it, would have considered the adjective as another of the
"details," and would have shaken that off also.

Mrs. Rutherford in her youth never could help admiring the Harolds
(there were a good many of them, almost all men; there was but seldom a
daughter); when, therefore, her sister Hilda married Lansing of the
name, she had an odd sort of pride in it, although everybody said that
Hilda would not be happy; the Harolds seldom made good husbands. It was
not that they were harassing or brutal; they were simply supremely
inattentive. In this case, however, there had been little opportunity to
verify or prove false the expectation, as both Lansing Harold and his
wife had died within two years after their marriage, the wife last,
leaving (as her sister, Mrs. Winthrop, did later) a son but a few days
old. The small Lansing was adopted by his aunt. Through childhood he was
a noble-looking little fellow, never governed or taught to govern
himself; he grew rapidly into a large, manly lad, active and strong,
fond of out-of-door sports and excelling in them, having the quick wit
of his family, which, however (like them), he was not inclined to bestow
upon all comers for their entertainment; he preferred to keep it for his
own.

Evert remembered with a smile the immense admiration he had felt for
his big cousin, the excited anticipation with which he had looked
forward to meeting him when he went, twice a year, to see his aunt. The
splendid physical strength of the elder boy, his liberty, his dogs and
his gun, his horse and boat--all these filled the sparingly indulged
little New