s
right trouser-leg, where the crease passed over his knee, and looked
first at her, and then at the floor, and then at her again, with the
purposeless regularity of a mechanical toy.

There was a tremendous and highly significant rattling of cups, saucers,
and silver spoons, as Dorothy Rathbawne prepared her mother's tea. All
things considered, one found something very admirable about Dorothy at
such a time as this. It was not complete submission, still less was it
open revolt, but savored of both, and was incomparable as an attitude
toward Mrs. Rathbawne. On some occasions it was almost as impossible to
get on with Mrs. Rathbawne as it would have been, on others, to get on
without her. The which, nowadays, is more or less true of all parents.
And children.

"Natalie and your Aunt Helen got out at the florist's," went on the good
lady, "but I came straight on, and sent the carriage back for them. I
felt that I _couldn't_ exist an _instant_ longer without my tea. I'm
sure I don't see how Natalie _stands_ it. She was out all morning in the
brougham, too. You had best make enough for three cups, Dorothy--and
_do_ sit up straight, my dear!--and order Thomas to bring in some more
tartines. They are _sure_ to be hungry, and they are apt to come in at
_any_ moment."

"That is a family failing," said Dorothy venomously, from behind the
kettle.

"Well, I'm _sure_, my dear," said Mrs. Rathbawne innocently, as she
straightened her rings, and picked an imaginary speck out of one of her
round, flat nails, "there is no disgrace at all in a healthy appetite.
I'm thankful we all have it--though as for your Aunt Helen, _hers_ is
about like that of a fly."

"Flies have very good appetites--judging from all I've seen, that is,"
said Dorothy, "so I don't think she is to be commiserated on that
account."

"That was only a figure of speech, my dear," replied Mrs. Rathbawne,
with engaging placidity. "Mercy! but I'm glad to get home. We've had a
positively _exhausting_ day with Natalie's shopping, and the _worst_ of
it is to think what a _lot_ more there is to do. A wedding certainly
_is_ an undertaking, Mr. Nisbet."

"Is it?" answered young Nisbet, perceptibly startled at being thus
abruptly included in the conversation.

"Decidedly!" asseverated Mrs. Rathbawne.

"Of course, in the case of an _ordinary_ man"--

"Two lumps, mother?"

"_Always_ two lumps, Dorothy, my dear. Surely you must know that, by
this time! As I was _sayi