Fairlie is too
great an invalid to be a companion for anybody. I don't know what
is the matter with him, and the doctors don't know what is the
matter with him, and he doesn't know himself what is the matter
with him. We all say it's on the nerves, and we none of us know
what we mean when we say it. However, I advise you to humour his
little peculiarities, when you see him to-day. Admire his
collection of coins, prints, and water-colour drawings, and you
will win his heart. Upon my word, if you can be contented with a
quiet country life, I don't see why you should not get on very
well here. From breakfast to lunch, Mr. Fairlie's drawings will
occupy you. After lunch, Miss Fairlie and I shoulder our sketch-
books, and go out to misrepresent Nature, under your directions.
Drawing is her favourite whim, mind, not mine. Women can't draw--
their minds are too flighty, and their eyes are too inattentive.
No matter--my sister likes it; so I waste paint and spoil paper,
for her sake, as composedly as any woman in England. As for the
evenings, I think we can help you through them. Miss Fairlie
plays delightfully. For my own poor part, I don't know one note
of music from the other; but I can match you at chess, backgammon,
ecarte, and (with the inevitable female drawbacks) even at
billiards as well.
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