When she was no more than seven, a ward of Sir Christopher's--a lad of fifteen, Maynard Gilfil by name--began to spend his vacations at Cheverel Manor, and found there no playfellow so much to his mind as Caterina.

Maynard was an affectionate lad, who retained a propensity to white rabbits, pet squirrels, and guinea-pigs, perhaps a little beyond the age at which young gentlemen usually look down on such pleasures as puerile.

He was also much given to fishing, and to carpentry, considered as a fine art, without any base view to utility.
And in all these pleasures it was his delight to have Caterina as his companion, to call her little pet names, answer her wondering questions, and have her toddling after him as you may have seen a Blenheim spaniel trotting after a large setter.

Whenever Maynard went back to school, there was a little scene of parting.
'You won't forget me, Tina, before I come back again?
I shall leave you all the whip-cord we've made; and don't you let Guinea die.

Come, give me a kiss, and promise not to forget me.' As the years wore on, and Maynard passed from school to college, and from a slim lad to a stalwart young man, their companionship in the vacations necessarily took a different form, but it retained a brotherly and sisterly familiarity.