Walter's good intentions and resolutions respecting his treatment of his brother, though sincere when he uttered them in the presence of his aunt, were by no means strong enough to make him curb his wit or his displeasure when Amos did anything to annoy or thwart him.  And not only so; but there abode in his mind a feeling of mingled jealousy and annoyance when he was constrained to admit to himself his brother's superiority.  If Amos had some self-imposed duty to perform, why should he thrust this duty into other people's faces?  Duty was a very fine thing in its way, no doubt, but grave Mr Duty was a very sour-tempered, troublesome old fellow when he trode on his neighbour's toes.  And why should Amos make himself disagreeable by adopting a course of duty which unfitted him for cordially co-operating with his younger brother in his schemes?  There was a sort of monasticism in this conduct in Walter's eyes.  Here was his brother living amongst them, and yet, having taken the vows of some self-imposed duty upon him, he was looking down upon them all as though from some higher standing-ground.  What a pity that he did not retire into a monastery, where he could act out his vows and his duty without troubling the noses of ordinary mortals like his relations with this oppressive "odour of sanctity."  So thought Walter; and he made no concealment of his feelings from Amos, whom he now began to call "the Monk," or "Father Gengulphus."