good effect is to be produced. Anne, my dear, if you have said
all you have to say to Clara, you must recollect that we have a great
deal to do--"

"You are not going the moment I come in," said Mr. Copperhead. "Come, we
must have some tea or something. Not that I care very much for tea, but
I suppose you'll be shocked if I offer you anything else in the
afternoon. Haven't you ordered tea, Mrs. Copperhead? I can't teach my
wife hospitality, Sir Robert--not as I understand it. She'd see you come
and go a dozen times, I'll be bound, without once thinking of offering
anything. That ain't my way. Tea! and directly, do you hear."

"Yes," said Mrs. Copperhead, in a nervous tremor; "bring tea, Burton,
please. It is rather early, but I do so hope you will stay." She gave
Miss Dorset an appealing glance, and Anne was too kind to resist the
appeal.

"To be sure they'll stay," said Mr. Copperhead. "Ladies never say no to
a cup of tea, and ours ought to be good if there's any virtue in money.
Come and look at my Turner, Sir Robert. I ain't a judge of art, but it
cost a precious lot, if that is any test. They tell me it's one of the
best specimens going. Come this way."

"You won't mind?" said poor Mrs. Copperhead. "He is very hospitable, he
cannot bear that any one should go without taking something. It is
old-fashioned, but then Mr. Copperhead--"

"It is a most kind fashion, I think," said Anne Dorset, who had a
superstitious regard for other people's feelings, "and Mr. Copperhead is
quite right, I never say no to a cup of tea."

Just then Clarence came in with his hands in his pockets, so curiously
like his father in his large somewhat loose figure, as unlike him in
aspect and expression, that even the gentle Anne could scarcely help
smiling. When he had shaken hands with Miss Dorset he dropped naturally
into a seat beside Ursula, who, dazzled by his position as son of the
house, and flattered by what she called his "kindness," was as much
pleased by this sign of preference as if Clarence Copperhead had been a
hero.

"I hope you have recovered my father's ball," he said.

"Recovered! Mr. Copperhead."

"Yes, you think it uncivil; but I myself have scarcely recovered yet.
The sort of people he chose to collect--people whom nobody knew."

"But, Mr. Copperhead," said Ursula, "if it was his old friends, as your
mother says, how much more noble of him than if they had been fine
people he did not care for! As for me, I don't