thout a chaperon?' exclaimed James, laughing.
'Why, his lordship is fifty-five, and she can't be much less. That is
a good joke.'

'It is not punctilio,' said his grandmother, looking distressed. 'It
is needful to be on the safe side with such a man as Mr. Ponsonby. My
fear is that he may send her home with orders not to come near us.'

'She used to be always at Ormersfield in the old times.'

'Yes, when my sister was alive. Ah! you were too young to know about
those matters then. The fact was, that things had come to such a pass
from Mr. Ponsonby's neglect and unkindness, that Lord Ormersfield,
standing in the place of her brother, thought it right to interfere.
His mother went to London with him, to bring poor Mary and her little
girl back to Ormersfield, and there they were till my sister's death,
when of course they could not remain. Mr. Ponsonby had just got his
appointment as British envoy in Peru, and wished her to go with him.
It was much against Lord Ormersfield's advice, but she thought it her
duty, poor dear. I believe he positively hates Lord Ormersfield; and
as if for a parting unkindness, he left his little girl at school with
orders to spend her holidays with his sister, and never to be with us.'

'That accounts for it!' said James. 'I never knew all this! nor why we
were so entirely cut off from Mary Ponsonby. I wonder what she is now!
She was a droll sturdy child in those days! We used to call her
Downright Dunstable! She was almost of the same age as Louis, and a
great deal stouter, and used to fight for him and herself too. Has not
she been out in Peru?'

'Yes, she went out at seventeen. I believe she is an infinite comfort
to her mother.'

'Poor Mary! Well, we children lived in the middle of a tragedy, and
little suspected it! By the bye, what relation are the Ponsonbys to
us?'

'Mrs. Ponsonby is my niece. My dear sister, Mary--'

'Married Mr. Raymond--yes, I know! I'll make the whole lucid; I'll
draw up a pedigree, and Louis shall learn it.' And with elaborate
neatness he wrote as follows, filling in the dates from the first leaf
of an old Bible, after his grandmother had left the room. The task,
lightly undertaken, became a mournful one, and as he read over his
performance, his countenance varied from the gentleness of regret to a
look of sarcastic pride, as though he felt that the world had dealt
hardly by him, and yet disdained to complain.