“What mischief are they doing now?”

“Every thing they can think of to worry me.  Esther won’t eat and can’t sleep, and Mr. Hazard won’t sleep and can’t eat.  She tries not to worry him, so she comes down on me with questions and books enough to frighten a professor.  Do tell me what to say!”

“Where are your questions?” asked Strong.

“This morning she wanted to know what I thought of apostolic succession.  She said she was reading some book by a Dr. Newman.  What is apostolic succession?”

“A curious disease, quite common among the poorer classes of Sandwich Islanders,” replied Strong.  “No one has ever found a cure for it.”

“Don’t laugh at us!  We do nothing but cry now, except when Mr. Hazard is here, and then we pretend to be happy.  When Esther cries, I cry too.  That makes her laugh.  It’s our only joke, and we used to have so many.”

“Don’t you think it rather a moist joke?” asked Strong.  “I take mine dry.”

“I can’t tell what she will think a joke,” replied Catherine.  “She asked me to-day what was my idea of heaven, and I said it was reading novels in church.  She seemed to think this a rich bonanza of a joke, and laughed herself into hysterics, but I was as serious as Mr. Wharton’s apostles.”

“You are never so funny as when you are serious.  Never be so any more!  Why don’t you get her to paint?”

“She won’t.  I’m rather glad of it, for if she did, I should have to sit for melancholy, or an angel, or something I’m not fitted for by education.”

“What shall we do about it?” asked Strong.  “Things can’t go on in this way.”

“I think the engagement had better come out,” said Catherine.  “The longer it is kept private, the more she will doubt whether she ought to marry a clergyman.  What do you think about marrying clergymen?  Wouldn’t it almost be better to marry a painter, or even a professor?”

“That would be playing it too low down,” replied Strong gravely.  “I would recommend you to look out for a swell.  What has become of your admirer, Mr. Van Dam?”

“Gone!” said Catherine sadly.  “Mr. Wharton and he went off together.  There is something about me that scares them all off the ranche.”

While they were thus improving each other’s minds, the door opened and Esther entered.  She was pale and her face had no longer the bright look which Wharton had thought so characteristic, but there was no other sign of trouble about her, and she welcomed her cousin as pleasantly as ever, so that he could hardly believe in the stories he had just heard of her distress.

“Good day, Cousin George,” she said.  “Thank you for coming to cheer up this poor girl.  She needs it.  Do take her out and amuse her.”

“Come out yourself, Esther.  You need it more than she does.”

“Aunt Sarah is coming at two o’clock to take me to drive,” said Esther.  “Catherine hates driving unless she drives herself.”