owever, there is time enough to think of that.'

Ethelberta was dressed at last, and, beholding the lonely look of poor
Picotee when about to leave the room, she could not help having a
sympathetic feeling that it was rather hard for her sister to be denied
so small an enjoyment as a menial peep at a feast when she herself was to
sit down to it as guest.

'If you still want to go and see the procession downstairs you may do
so,' she said reluctantly; 'provided that you take care of your tongue
when you come in contact with Menlove, and adhere to father's
instructions as to how long you may stay. It may be in the highest
degree unwise; but never mind, go.'

Then Ethelberta departed for the scene of action, just at the hour of the
sun's lowest decline, when it was fading away, yellow and mild as candle-
light, and when upper windows facing north-west reflected to persons in
the street dissolving views of tawny cloud with brazen edges, the
original picture of the same being hidden from sight by soiled walls and
slaty slopes.

Before entering the presence of host and hostess, Ethelberta contrived to
exchange a few words with her father.

'In excellent time,' he whispered, full of paternal pride at the superb
audacity of her situation here in relation to his. 'About half of them
are come.'

'Mr. Neigh?'

'Not yet; he's coming.'

'Lord Mountclere?'

'Yes. He came absurdly early; ten minutes before anybody else, so that
Mrs. D. could hardly get on her bracelets and things soon enough to
scramble downstairs and receive him; and he's as nervous as a boy. Keep
up your spirits, dear, and don't mind me.'

'I will, father. And let Picotee see me at dinner if you can. She is
very anxious to look at me. She will be here directly.'

And Ethelberta, having been announced, joined the chamberful of assembled
guests, among whom for the present we lose sight of her.

* * * * *

Meanwhile the evening outside the house was deepening in tone, and the
lamps began to blink up. Her sister having departed, Picotee hastily
arrayed herself in a little black jacket and chip hat, and tripped across
the park to the same point. Chickerel had directed a maid-servant known
as Jane to receive his humbler daughter and make her comfortable; and
that friendly person, who spoke as if she had known Picotee
five-and-twenty years, took her to the housekeeper's room, where the
visitor deposited her jacket and hat, and rested awhile.

A