Then they had their first split soda; then they lit their pipes; for it was ten o'clock. Phillis was gone to bed; Joseph was in his own room; the fire was bright and the hearth clean. The Twins sat at opposite sides, with the "materials" on a chess-table between them, and prepared to make the usual night of it.
"Cornelius," said Humphrey, "Joseph is greatly changed since she came."
The Poet sat up and leaned forward, with a nod signifying concurrence.
"He is, Humphrey; now you mention it, he is. And you think——"
"I am afraid, Cornelius, that Joseph, a most thoughtful man in general, and quite awake to the responsibilities of his position——"
"It is not every younger son, brother Humphrey, who has thought of changing his condition in life."
Cornelius turned pale.
"He has her to breakfast with him; she walks to the office with him; she makes him talk at dinner; Joseph never used to talk with us. He sits in the drawing-room after dinner. He used to go straight to his own room."
"This is grave," said the Poet. "You must not, my dear Humphrey, have the gorgeous colouring and noble execution of your groups spoiled by the sordid cares of life. If Joseph marries, you and I would be thrown upon the streets, so to speak. What is two hundred a year?"
"Nor must you, my dear brother, have the delicate fancies of your brain shaken up and clouded by mean and petty anxieties."