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'Papa thinks as I do,' said Helen; 'I have heard him say that he is a
spoiled child, and thinks too much of himself.'
'Oh! that was only because Aunt Anne worked that beautiful waistcoat
for him,' said Elizabeth; 'that was not Rupert's fault.'
'And Papa said that he was quite fond enough already of smart
waistcoats,' said Helen; 'and he laughed at his wearing a ring.'
'That is only a blood-stone with his crest,' said Elizabeth, 'and I
am sure no one can accuse Rupert of vulgar smartness.'
'Not of _vulgar_ smartness,' said Helen, 'but you must allow that
everything about him has a--kind of--what shall I say?--recherche
air, that seems as if he thought a great deal of himself; I am sure
you must have heard Papa say something of the kind.'
'Really, Helen,' said Elizabeth, 'I cannot think why you should be
determined to say all that you can against that poor Rupert.'
Helen made no answer.
'I do believe,' said Elizabeth, 'that you have had a grudge against
him ever since he made you an April fool. Oh! how capital it was,'
cried she, sitting down to laugh at the remembrance.


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