ely remarked in her quiet way, when she was bidding her
sister good-night in the Red Gallery, that she feared they were not
doing enough for their guest's amusement, and that she thought they had
better ask the vicar to dinner.

"Mr. Herrick is a literary man, and they will get on very well
together," she observed. "Don't you think so, Betty?" And as Elizabeth
did think so, and had no objection to offer, Dinah said that Johnson
should take a note round the following morning.

Elizabeth felt a twinge of compunction as she closed her bedroom door;
she was by no means given to introspection, but "conscience, that makes
cowards of us all," told her that she had not been quite gracious to
Mr. Herrick that evening.

"It was too bad of me not to sing to him," she said to herself, as she
recalled his disappointed look. "I was not so very tired after all; it
was just a fit of laziness, and--" but here Elizabeth checked herself
abruptly--self-examination is sometimes embarrassing.

"I will try and make up for it to-morrow," she thought; "he is such a
good fellow, and we owe him so much;" and she was still in this
complaisant mood when she came down to breakfast.

Even her outward garb was improved: she wore a fresh and extremely
becoming morning dress, which set off her fine figure to advantage; and
before Malcolm had tasted his coffee or looked at his letters she was
challenging him gaily to a game of tennis.

Malcolm was charmed--he had no idea that she played tennis; but her
next proposition rather took off the edge of his enjoyment.

"I know you are a good player, Mr. Herrick," she remarked coolly, "but
it would be too great an exertion this warm weather for you to beat
Cedric and me. Would it not be a good plan," turning to her brother,
"for you to go over to the White Cottage on your bicycle and ask Mr.
Carlyon to make the fourth? We should have a much better game."

"But we decided to ask Mr. Charrington to dinner, Betty," remonstrated
her sister. Then Cedric looked disgusted, and muttered something under
his breath about old Dr. Dryasdust spoiling the fun, but Elizabeth put
him down with a strong hand.

"People's notions of fun differ," she said severely. "I am quite sure
that the vicar and Mr. Herrick will have many interests in common. As
for Mr. Carlyon," with a sudden change of tone, "he and Mr. Charrington
are such good friends that they dine together two or three times a
week, so there is no objection on t