't, Mr Neil; you really mustn't." But the Hermit was firm and
would brook no refusal.

"It is impossible for me to entertain at home, and it is quite time that
you dined with me for a change. I have been your guest for about fifty
Sunday-night suppers."

"Cold roast beef and beetroot in winter; cold lamb and mint-sauce in
summer! There is an appalling lack of variety in the menus of an
English household," said Madge, with an expressive grimace. "When I am
married I shall make a point of serving my loved one with constant
surprises."

"You will find it more difficult than painting pictures. What is one to
do in winter, when poultry is so dear and none of the nice spring things
have come in?" queried the dear, literal Martha, looking straight at the
Hermit as she spoke, as if asking him to vindicate her housekeeping
abilities; the which he proceeded to do with a zeal untempered by
knowledge, while Hope studied his face with anxious eyes, and Madge sat
silent, a monument of long-chinned solemnity.

No further objections were made to the Hermit's invitation--which, in
truth, was too tempting to be refused--and the next morning was spent in
hunting up old fineries, turning ribbons, washing laces, and sewing them
on again in as near an imitation of the latest Parisian fashion as could
be obtained with insufficient quantities and 'prentice fingers.

"To think that it is eighteen months since I wore an evening-dress!"
sighed Madge tragically. "Do you remember how I talked of holding a
_salon_ for all the greatest intellects in London! It is rather a
come-down to reflect that the Hermit is the only youngish man who has
crossed this threshold since we came. And he is no good to me either,
for"--She looked round the room to make sure that Philippa was not
present. "I'll tell you a secret, Theo. He is--not falling--he could
not do anything so precipitate--but _crawling_ in love with Phil; but he
will never find it out unless somebody tells him!"

"I'll tell you another stale item. Phil is crawling in love with him
too; but wild horses wouldn't make her confess it. If he ever winds
himself up to proposing, she will refuse him for the sake of the family
and never say a word about it, but only snap off our heads, and grow so
cross and cantankerous that there will be no living with her."

This from Theo. The other ungrateful sister shrugged her shoulders and
exclaimed, "What a nuisance it is when people _will_ make