ng the usages of
society amidst the guests, how little did any one present suspect the
scene which had taken place but a short while before! How many of the
smiling faces we meet in society cover aching hearts!

CHAPTER LXXXIX.

MASTER CHEESE BLOWN UP.

There were other houses in Deerham that night, not quite so full of
sociability as was Lady Verner's. For one, may be instanced that of the
Misses West. They sat at the table in the general sitting-room, hard at
work, a lamp between them, for the gas-burners above were high for
sewing, and their eyes were no longer so keen as they had been. Miss
Deborah was "turning" a table-cloth; Miss Amilly was darning sundry
holes in a pillow-case. Their stock of household linen was in great need
of being replaced by new; but, not having the requisite money to spare,
they were doing their best to renovate the old.

A slight--they could not help feeling it as such--had been put upon them
that day, in not having been invited to Decima Verner's wedding. The
sisters-in-law of Lionel Verner, connected closely with Jan, they had
expected the invitation. But it had not come. Lionel had pressed his
mother to give it; Jan, in his straightforward way, when he had found it
was not forthcoming, said, "Why don't you invite them! They'd do nobody
any harm." Lady Verner, however had positively declined: the Wests had
never been acquaintances of hers, she said. They felt the slight, poor
ladies, but they felt it quite humbly and meekly; not complaining; not
venturing even to say to each other that they _might_ have been asked.
They only sat a little more silent than usual over their work that
evening, doing more, and talking less.

The servant came in with the supper-tray, and laid it on the table. "Is
the cold pork to come in?" asked she. "I have not brought it. I thought,
perhaps, you'd not care to have it in to-night, ma'am, as Mr. Jan's
out."

Miss Deborah cast her eyes on the tray. There was a handsome piece of
cheese, and a large glass of fresh celery. A rapid calculation passed
through her mind that the cold pork, if not cut for supper, would make a
dinner the following day, with an apple or a jam pudding.

"No, Martha, this will do for to-night," she answered. "Call Master
Cheese, and then draw the ale."

"It's a wonder _he_ waits to be called," was Martha's comment, as she
went out. "He is generally in afore the tray, whatever the meals may be,
he is."

She went out at t