; her mistress was to return to her
own house on the morrow! There seemed no need to search for inferences.
They leapt to light. Either Blent was to be shut up, or it was to
receive a wedded pair. On this alternative the factions split, and the
battle was furious. Mrs Trumbler definitely fought Miss S. for the first
time in her life. On one point only the whole town agreed; it was being
cheated--either out of the wedding which was its right, or else out of
the ball in the winter to which Miss S. had irrevocably committed Lady
Tristram. The popularity of Blent fell to nothing in the neighborhood.

The next morning Mr Neeld gained the reward of virtue, and became a hero
in spite of his discretion. At breakfast he received a telegram. Times
were critical, and all eyes were on him as he read, and re-read, and
frowned perplexedly. Then he turned to Iver.

"Can you let me have a trap this afternoon, Iver?"

"Of course, of course. But you're not going to leave us, I hope?"

"Only just for the evening; I--in fact I have to go to Blent."

There was a moment's silence. Glances were exchanged, while Neeld made
half-hearted efforts to grapple with an egg. Then Bob Broadley broke out
with a laugh,

"Oh, hang it all, out with it, Mr Neeld!"

"Well, I'm not told to be silent; and it must become known immediately.
Madame Zabriska telegraphs to me that they are to be married early this
morning, and will come to Blent by the 1.30 train. She herself leaves by
the 11 o'clock, will be there at five, and wishes me to join her."

"By Jove, he's done it then!" exclaimed Iver.

Everybody looked very solemn except Neeld, who was sadly confused.

"Dear, dear!" murmured Mrs Iver.

"She must be very much in love with him," remarked Janie.

"It's his conduct more than hers which needs explanation," Iver observed
dryly. "And what do they want you for, Neeld?" If his tone and his
question were not very flattering, they were excused by the obvious fact
that there was no sort of reason for wanting Mr Neeld--or at any rate
seemed to all that party to be none.

"Oh--er--why--why no doubt it's--it's only a fancy of Mina Zabriska's."

"A very queer fancy," said Janie Iver coldly. It was really a little
annoying that old Mr Neeld should be the person wanted at Blent.

"I'll drive you over," Bob kindly volunteered.

"Er--thank you, Broadley, but she asks me to come alone."

"Well, I'm hanged!" muttered Bob, who had seen a chance of being in