o lay the cloth. Mamma, where is aunty?"

"She has not come in yet. Why, dear me, it is nearly one o'clock! Go and
get off your boots, my darlings, and ask grandmamma when she expects
aunty."

Mrs. Liddell did not know when Katherine might return, and, moreover,
she was getting uneasy. She did not like to say much about her errand,
for she knew her daughter-in-law thought but indifferently of her
writings, and with an indescribable "crass" dislike of what she could
not do herself, would have been rather pleased than otherwise to know
that a manuscript had been rejected.

In looking over one of the drawers in her writing-table Mrs. Liddell had
found that Katherine had left the shorter story behind. This rendered
her prolonged absence less accountable, for she could have interviewed
several publishers of three-volume novels in the time. The poor lady
naturally feared that they must have refused even to look at her work,
or Katherine would have returned.

When dinner was over, and four o'clock came, Mrs. Liddell's anxiety rose
high; she could not bear her daughter-in-law's presence, and retired
into her own den.

"Won't you stay and see Colonel Ormonde? He used to be quite friendly
with poor Fred in India, and I should like him to see what a nice
handsome mamma-in-law I have," said Mrs. Fred, caressingly: she rather
liked her mother-in-law, and felt it was as well to be on affectionate
terms with her.

"No, my dear; my head is not quite free from pain, and I want to give
Katherine something to eat when she comes in; she will be very hungry.
Then I can see that the children do not get into any mischief in the
garden."

The younger lady then went to pose herself with a dainty piece of
fancy-work in the drawing-room, and the elder to sit at her
writing-table, pen in hand, but not writing; only thinking round and
round the circle of difficulties which hedged her in, and longing for
the sight of her daughter's face.

At last it beamed upon her through the open door-window which led out on
the stairway to the garden; her approach had been seen by her little
nephews, who had admitted her through the back gate.

"You must not come in now, dears; I want to talk to grannie. If you keep
away I will tell you a nice story in the evening."

"My dearest child, what has kept you? I have been uneasy; and how
dreadfully tired you look!"

"I am tired, but that is nothing. I think, dear, I have a little good
news for you."

"