She walked lightly and quickly beside him.
"You must take your own pace," said Howard, "I'll try to keep up--one
gets very lazy at Cambridge about exercise--won't you go on with what
you were saying? I know your father has told you about my aunt's plan.
I can't realise it yet; but I want to feel at home here now--indeed I
do feel that already--and I like to know how things stand. We are all
relations together, and I must try to make up for lost time. I seem to
know my aunt so well already. She has a great gift for letting one see
into her mind and heart--and I know your father too, and Jack, and I
want to know you; we must be a family party, and talk quite simply and
freely about all our concerns."

"Oh, yes, indeed I will," said Maud--"and I find myself wondering how
easy it is to talk to you. You do seem like a relation; as if you had
always been here, indeed; but I must not talk too much about myself--I
do chatter very freely to Cousin Anne; but I don't think it is good for
one to talk about oneself, do you? It makes one feel so important!"

"It depends who one talks to," said Howard, "but I don't believe in
holding one's tongue too much, if one trusts people. It seems to me the
simplest thing to do; I only found it out a few years ago--how much one
gained by talking freely and directly. It seems to me an uncivilised,
almost a savage thing to be afraid of giving oneself away. I don't mind
who knows about my own concerns, if he is sufficiently interested. I
will tell you anything you like about myself, because I should like you
to realise how I live. In fact, I shall want you all to come and see me
at Cambridge; and then you will be able to understand how we live
there, while I shall know what is going on here. And I am really a very
safe person to talk to. One gets to know a lot of young men, year by
year--and I'm a mine of small secrets. Don't you know the title so
common in the old Methodist tracts--'The life and death and Christian
sufferings of the Rev. Mr. Pennefather.' That's what I want to know
about people--Christian sufferings and all."

Maud smiled at him and said, "I am afraid there are not many Christian
sufferings in my life; but I shall be glad to talk about many things
here. You know my mother died more than ten years ago--when I was quite
a little girl--and I don't remember her very well; I have always said
just what I thought to Jack, and he to me--till quite lately; and that
is what troubles me a