ley, dropping out her words very
slowly, as she adjusted her blonde scarf, "that Mr. Avenel has resolved
not to marry."

"The devil they do, ma'am!" bolted out Richard, gruffly; and then,
ashamed of his _lapsus linguae,_ screwed up his lips firmly, and glared
on the company with an eye of indignant fire.

Mrs. M'Catchley observed him over her fan. Richard turned abruptly, and
she withdrew her eyes modestly, and raised the fan.

"She's a real beauty," said Richard, between his teeth.

The fan fluttered.

Five minutes afterward, the widow and the bachelor seemed so much at
their ease that Mrs. Pompley--who had been forced to leave her friend,
in order to receive the Dean's lady--could scarcely believe her eyes
when she returned to the sofa.

Now, it was from that evening that Mr. Richard Avenel exhibited the
change of mood which I have described. And from that evening he
abstained from taking Leonard with him to any of the parties in the
Abbey Gardens.

CHAPTER IX.

Some days after this memorable _soiree_, Colonel Pompley sat alone in
his drawing-room (which opened pleasantly on an old-fashioned garden)
absorbed in the house-bills. For Colonel Pompley did not leave that
domestic care to his lady--perhaps she was too grand for it. Colonel
Pompley, with his own sonorous voice, ordered the joints, and with his
own heroic hand dispensed the stores. In justice to the Colonel, I must
add--at whatever risk of offense to the fair sex--that there was not a
house at Screwstown so well managed as the Pompleys'; none which so
successfully achieved the difficult art of uniting economy with show. I
should despair of conveying to you an idea of the extent to which
Colonel Pompley made his income go. It was but seven hundred a year; and
many a family contrive to do less upon three thousand. To be sure, the
Pompleys had no children to sponge upon them. What they had, they spent
all on themselves. Neither, if the Pompleys never exceeded their income,
did they pretend to live much within it. The two ends of the year met at
Christmas--just met, and no more.

Colonel Pompley sat at his desk. He was in his well-brushed blue
coat--buttoned across his breast--his gray trowsers fitted tight to his
limbs, and fastened under his boots with a link chain. He saved a great
deal of money in straps. No one ever saw Colonel Pompley in
dressing-gown and slippers. He and his house were alike in order--always
fit to be seen--