"But it is Horace who has always lived at Brackenhill. Percival only goes
on a visit now and then. Every one knows," said Addie, in almost an injured
tone, "that Horace is the heir."

Lottie raised her head a little and eyed her sister intently, with
amusement, wonder, and a little scorn in her glance. Addie, blissfully
unconscious, went on brushing her hair, still with that look of anxious
perplexity.

"This is how it was," Lottie exclaimed suddenly. "Percival was just gone,
and you were talking to Horace. Up comes Godfrey Hammond, sits down by me,
and says some rubbish about consoling me. I think I laughed. Then he looked
at me out of his little, light eyes, and said that you and I seemed to get
on well with his young friends. So I said, 'Oh yes--middling.'"

"Upon my word," smiled Mrs. Blake, "you appear to have distinguished
yourself in the conversation."

"Didn't I?" said Lottie, untroubled and unabashed: "I know it struck me so
at the time. Then he said something--I forget how he put it--about our
being just the right number and pairing off charmingly. So I said, 'Oh, of
course the elder ones went together: that was only right.'"

"And what did he say?"

"Oh, he pinched his lips together and smiled, and said, 'Don't you know
that Percival is the elder?'"

"But, Lottie, that proves nothing as to his father."