“Yes,” assented Oscar slowly; “but I’m not sure that I like him as well as the others.”
“Oh, Oscar, I like him much the best!”
“Yes, I can see you do. Perhaps I shall when I know him better. I feel rather as though he gave himself airs.”
“Oh, no! It’s only that he feels more as we do—he would like things different. He has been to college, and stayed with people who live differently. I am quite glad he is here. He has promised to come often to see me when I go to The Grange. He likes to call it The Grange, too. He thinks Cossart Place sounds vulgar. Cyril and I think alike in a lot of ways.”
“And when are you going to The Grange? I thought Aunt Cossart was to come and see you this afternoon?”
“Yes; but Effie had one of her attacks, and so she couldn’t. She will write to-night and say if I am to go to-morrow, or wait for another day. I hope I shall get on with Effie; but, from what Cyril says, I think she is very difficile.”
“Don’t let Cyril set you against people and things!” said Oscar, rather gravely.
“Oh, no, I won’t!” was Sheila’s eager answer.
(To be continued.)