t was not, as she had supposed, merely in an occasional
impatient word, that Arthur resented Theodora's neglect of her.

'How unhappy it must make her! how much it must add to her dislike!
they must be brought together again!' were gentle Violet's thoughts.
And knowing her ground better, she could venture many more steps towards
conciliation than last year: but Theodora disappeared after dinner, and
Violet brought down some plants from the Isle of Wight which John had
pronounced to be valuable, to his mother; but Mrs. Nesbit, at the first
glance, called them common flowers, and shoved them away contemptuously,
while Lady Martindale tried to repair the discourtesy by condescending
thanks and admiration of the neat drying of the specimens; but her
stateliness caused Violet to feel herself sinking into the hesitating
tremulous girl she used to be, and she betook herself to her work,
hoping to be left to silence; but she was molested by a very sharp,
unpleasant examination from Mrs. Nesbit on the style of John's
housekeeping at Ventnor, and the society they had met there. It was
plain she thought he had put himself to a foolish expense, and something
was said of 'absurd' when cross-examination had elicited the fact of
the pony-carriage. Then came a set of questions about Mr. Fotheringham's
return, and strong condemnation of him for coming home to idle in
England.

It was a great relief when John came in, and instantly took up the
defence of the ophrys, making out its species so indisputably, that Mrs.
Nesbit had no refuge but in saying, specimens were worthless that
had not been gathered by the collector, and Lady Martindale made all
becoming acknowledgments. No wonder Mrs. Nesbit was mortified; she was
an excellent botanist, and only failing eyesight could have made
even prejudice betray her into such a mistake. Violet understood the
compassion that caused John to sit down by her and diligently strive to
interest her in conversation.

Theodora had returned as tea was brought in, and Violet felt as if she
must make some demonstration out of gratitude for the fondness for her
child; but she did not venture on that subject, and moving to her side,
asked, with somewhat timid accents, after Charlie Layton, the dumb boy.

'He is very well, thank you. I hope to get him into an asylum next
year,' said Theodora, but half-pleased.

'I looked for him at the gate, and fancied it was him I saw with a broad
black ribbon on his hat.