"Come and look at the orange lilies," were her first words, after
the greeting. "They've never been so fine."

"But notice Pompey first," said Jane. "He'll be offended in a
minute."

A St. Bernard, who had already made such advances as his dignity
permitted, stood close by Will, with eyes fixed upon him in grave
and surprised reproach. The dog's name indicated a historical
preference of Jane in her childhood; she had always championed
Pompey against Caesar, following therein her brother's guidance.

"Hallo, old Magnus!" cried the visitor, cordially repairing his
omission. "Come along with us and see the lilies."

It was only when all the sights of the little garden had been
visited, Mrs. Warburton forgetting her weakness as she drew Will
hither and thither, that the business for which they had met came
under discussion. Discussion, indeed, it could hardly be called, for
the mother and sister were quite content to listen whilst Will
talked, and accept his view of things. Small as their income was,
they never thought of themselves as poor; with one maid-servant and
the occasional help of a gardener, they had all the comfort they
wished for, and were able to bestow of their superfluity in
vegetables and flowers upon less fortunate acquaintances. Until a
year or two ago, Mrs. Warburton had led a life of ceaseless
activity, indoors and out; such was the habit of her daughter, who
enjoyed vigorous health, and cared little for sedentary pursuits and
amusements. Their property, land and cottages hard by, had of late