'Do send it away then,' said Aubrey, 'the urn oppresses the
atmosphere.'

'Very well, I'll make a fresh brew when papa comes home, and perhaps
you'll have some then. You did not half finish to-night.'

Aubrey yawned; and after some speculation about their father's
absence, Gertrude went to bed; and Aubrey, calling himself tired,
stood up, stretched every limb portentously, and said he should go
off too. Ethel looked at him anxiously, felt his hand, and asked if
he were sure he had not a cold coming on. 'You are always thinking
of colds,' was all the satisfaction she received.

'What has he been doing?' said Richard.

'That is what I was thinking. He was about all yesterday afternoon
with Leonard Ward, and perhaps may have done something imprudent in
the damp. I never know what to do. I can't bear him to be a coddle;
yet he is always catching cold if I let him alone. The question is,
whether it is worse for him to run risks, or to be thinking of
himself.'

'He need not be doing that,' said Richard; 'he may be thinking of
your wishes and papa's.'

'Very pretty of him and you, Ritchie; but he is not three parts of a
boy or man who thinks of his womankind's wishes when there is
anything spirited before him.'