, wondered at
her sister's boldness.

Ralph Newton,--Ralph from the Priory,--did come down to the villa,
and did accept the invitation to dinner which was given to him. The
event was so important that Patience found it necessary to go up
to London to tell her father. Mary went with her, desirous to see
something of the mysteries of Southampton Buildings, while Clarissa
remained at home,--waiting. After the usual skirmishes with Stemm,
who began by swearing that his master was not at home, they made
their way into Sir Thomas's library. "Dear, dear, dear; this is
a very awkward place to bring your cousin to," he said, frowning.
Mary would have retreated at once had it not been that Patience held
her ground so boldly. "Why shouldn't she come, papa? And I had to
see you. Mr. Newton is to dine with us to-morrow." To-morrow was
a Saturday, and Sir Thomas became seriously displeased. Why had a
Saturday been chosen? Saturday was the most awkward day in the world
for the giving and receiving of dinners. It was in vain that Patience
explained to him that Saturday was the only day on which Mr. Newton
could come, that Sir Thomas had given his express authority for the
dinner, and that no bar had been raised against Saturday. "You ought
to have known," said Sir Thomas. Nevertheless, he allowed them to
leave the chamber with the understanding that he would preside at
his own table on the following day. "Why is it that Saturday is so
distasteful to him?" Mary asked as they walked across Lincoln's Inn
Fields together.

Patience was silent for awhile, not knowing how to answer the
question, or how to leave it unanswered. But at last she preferred to
make some reply. "He does not like going to our church, I think."

"But you like it."

"Yes;--and I wish papa did. But he doesn't." Then there was a pause.
"Of course it must strike you as very odd, the way in which we live."

"I hope it is not I who drive my uncle away."

"Not in the least, Mary. Since mamma's death he has fallen into this
habit, and he has got so to love solitude, that he is never happy but
when alone. We ought to be grateful to him because it shows that he
trusts us;--but it would be much nicer if he would come home."

"He is so different from my father."

"He was always with you."

"Well;--yes; that is, I could be always with him,--almost always.
He was so fond of society that he would never be alone. We had a
great rambling house, always full of people. If h