nd, with his
laugh, to object to rash promises, and remind his dear sister Ethel
that post-offices were not always near at hand! After that, when Mary
in her bright tenderness hung round her sister, it was as if that was
the last fond grasp from the substance--as if only the shadow would
come back and live in Minster Street.

Perhaps it was because Ethel had tried to rule it otherwise, Mr.
Cheviot had insisted that the Cocksmoor children's share in the
festivity should be a dinner in the Whichcote hall, early in the day,
after which they had to be sent home, since no one chose to have the
responsibility of turning them loose to play in the Grammar-school
precincts, even in the absence of the boys. Richard was much afraid of
their getting into mischief, and was off immediately after church to
superintend the dinner, and marshal them home; and the rest of the
world lost the resource that entertaining them generally afforded the
survivors after a marriage, and which was specially needed with the two
Cheviot sisters to be disposed of. By the time the Riverses were gone
home, and the Ernescliffes and Harry off by the train, there were still
four mortal hours of daylight, and oh! for Mary's power of making every
one happy!

Caroline and Annie Cheviot were ladylike, nice-looking girls; but when
they found no croquet mallets in the garden, they seemed at a loss what
life had to offer at Stoneborough! Gertrude pronounced that 'she
played at it sometimes at Maplewood, where she had nothing better to
do,' and then retreated to her own devices. Ethel's heart sank both
with dread of the afternoon, and with self-reproach at her spoilt
child's discourtesy, whence she knew there would be no rousing her
without an incapacitating discussion; and on she wandered in the garden
with the guests, receiving instruction where the hoops might be
planted, and hearing how nice it would be for her sister to have such
an object, such a pleasant opportunity of meeting one's friends--an
interest for every day. 'No wonder they think I want an object in
life,' thought Ethel; 'how awfully tiresome I must be! Poor things,
what can I say to make it pleasanter?--Do you know this Dielytra? I
think it is the prettiest of modern flowers, but I wish we might call
it Japan fumitory, or by some English name.'

'I used to garden once, but we have no flower-beds now, they spoilt the
lawn for croquet.'

'And here comes Tom,' thought Ethel; 'poor Tom, he