The dowager's gauzes made acquaintance with the carpet in so elaborate
a curtsey as to savour of mockery, but her eyes were turned up to the
ceiling; not a word or look gave she to the young lady.

"The other one, I meant," cried she, nodding towards Thomas Carr.

"It is my friend Mr. Carr. You appear to have forgotten him."

"I hope you are well, ma'am," said he, advancing towards her.

Another curtsey, and the countess-dowager fanned herself, and sailed
towards the fireplace.

Meanwhile the children came home in a cab from Madame Tussaud's, and
dinner was announced. Lord Hartledon was obliged to take down the
countess-dowager, resigning his wife to Mr. Carr. Dinner passed off
pretty well, the dowager being too fully occupied to be annoying; also
the good cheer caused her temper to thaw a little. Afterwards, the
children came in; Edward, a bold, free boy of five, who walked straight
up to his grandmother, saluting no one; and Maude, a timid, delicate
little child, who stood still in the middle of the carpet where the maid
placed her.

The dowager was just then too busy to pay attention to the children, but
Anne held out her hand with a smile. Upon which the child drew up to her
father, and hid her face in his coat.

He took her up, and carried her to his wife, placing her upon her knee.
"Maude," he whispered, "this is your mamma, and you must love her very
much, for she loves you."

Anne's arms fondly encircled the child; but she began to struggle to get
down.

"Bad manners, Maude," said her father.

"She's afraid of her," spoke up the boy, who had the dark eyes and
beautiful features of his late mother. "We are afraid of bad people."

The observation passed momentarily unnoticed, for Maude, whom Lady
Hartledon had been obliged to release, would not be pacified. But when
calmness ensued, Lord Hartledon turned to the boy, just then assisting
himself to some pineapple.

"What did I hear you say about bad people, Edward?"

"She," answered the boy, pointing towards Lady Hartledon. "She shan't
touch Maude. She's come here to beat us, and I'll kick if she touches
me."

Lord Hartledon, with an unmistakable look at the countess-dowager, rose
from his seat in silence and rang the bell. There could be no correction
in the presence of the dowager; he and Anne must undo her work alone.
Carrying the little girl in one arm, he took the boy's hand, and met the
servant at the door.

"Take these children back to the