ever overlooks absence
from a rehearsal for Sunday."

"Very good; I will be there. Come to the lobby about four, and you will
find me."

The Pump Room was full that afternoon.

Lady Betty was of course there, laying siege to the young Lord
Basingstoke, and laughing her senseless little laugh, and flirting her
fan as she lounged on a sofa, with the young man leaning over her.

Sir Maxwell Danby had had a twinge of gout, and was in an ill temper. He
did not care two straws for Lady Betty, but he did not like to see his
territory invaded, knowing, too, that a peer weighed heavily in the
balance against a baronet.

Griselda had rebuffed him too decidedly for him to risk another public
manifestation of her repugnance to him, and he watched her with his
small close-set eyes with anything but a benign expression.

Griselda was surrounded by a mother and two smart, gawky daughters, who
were strangers at Bath, and were of the veritable type of
"country-cousins," which was so distinct a type in the society of those
days. Now refinement, or what resembles it, has penetrated into country
towns and villages, and the farmers' wives and daughters of to-day are
more successful in presenting themselves in what is called "good
society," than were the squires' and small landed proprietors' families
when "the country" districts were separated by impassable roads from
frequent intercourse with the gay world beyond.

These good people talked in loud resonant tones, with a decided
provincial twang.

"La, ma! what a fine lady that is!" said one of the girls. "Did you ever
see such a hat?"

"And look at the gentleman courting her!"

"Hush now, my dear! He is a lord, and the t'other is a baronet."

"Well, we _are_ in fine company. I wish we knew some of 'em. I say,
ma----"

At this moment the very stout mamma dropped her fan, and Griselda, who
was nearest to it, picked it up and handed it to her with a gracious
smile.

"Thank you, my dear, I am sure. Won't you take a seat here?" she
continued, gathering together the ample folds of her moreen pelisse
trimmed with fur, and edging up to her daughters, who were on the same
bench.

A quick glance showed Griselda that Sir Maxwell was meditating a raid on
her, so she accepted the offer, and almost at the same moment the
Marchioness of Lothian appeared, and Sir Maxwell advanced to her, bowed
low, and led her to a seat.

At least he would show Griselda, that if she chose to slight hi