ant to see the fellow. ... What was the fellow to
him? Didn't know how the fellow had the face to turn up at all, after
dawdling away an extra six months. Hoped to goodness the fellow would
make short work of it and be off, as he wanted to get up for dinner.

In her heart Bridgie agreed with each sentiment in turn, but she felt it
her duty to be stern and bracing.

"'Deed, and I hope so, too! Else I shall have to sit here, and you're
not the best company. I'm your guest, me dear--if you haven't the heart
to be civil ye might at least have the good manners! My little Jack
would never dr-eam--"

"Little prig he must be, then," mumbled Pat; but the reproof went home,
and he grumbled no more.

Just before the clock struck the hour Bridgie paid a flying visit to the
little sitting-room to see that the tea-table was set, the kettle on the
hob, the dish of hot scones on the brass stand in the fender, and
everything ready to hand, so that no one need enter unless specially
summoned. She found Pixie standing gazing into the fire, and started
with surprise and disappointment.

"_Pixie_, your dress! That dull old thing? Why not your pink? Me
dear, you've time. ... There's still time. ... Run off and change it!"

But Pixie shook her head.

"Bridgie, _don't fuss_!" she said, and there was a note in her voice
which checked the words on Bridgie's lips. She literally dared not say
any more, but her heart was heavy with disappointment.

She had been so anxious that Pixie should look her best for this
important interview, had been so complacently satisfied that the
rose-coloured gown was as becoming as it could be, and now the
aggravating, mysterious little thing had deliberately left it hanging in
the wardrobe, and put on instead an old brown dress which had been a
failure at the beginning, and was now well advanced in middle age. One
result of Pixie's sojourn in Paris had been an acquired faculty for
making the best of herself: she put on her clothes with care, she wore
them "with an air," she dressed her hair with neat precision, and then
with a finger and thumb gave a tweak here, a pat there, which imparted
to the final effect something piquant and attractive. To-day it
appeared as if that transforming touch had been forgotten, and Bridgie,
looking on, felt that pang of distress which all motherly hearts
experience when their nurslings show otherwise than at their best.

"Are you not going to sit with Pat?" i