," replied
the Rector, as they crossed the hall to the dining-room.

The ladies were already there. Mrs. Beach was by the window talking to
the twins, who adored her. She was getting on for fifty, but she was
still a pretty woman, and moved gracefully as she came across the room
to shake hands with her brother-in-law. "It is very nice to see you back
again, Edward," she said, with a charming smile. "You do not look as if
London had disagreed with you."

"My dear Grace," said the Squire, holding her white, well-formed hand in
his big one. "I'll tell you my private opinion of London, only don't let
it go any further. It can't hold a candle to Kencote." Then he gave a
hearty laugh, and motioned her to a seat on his right. The twins cast a
look of intelligence at one another, and Cicely glanced at her mother.
The Squire had recovered his good humour.

"For these an' all his mercies," mumbled the Squire, bending his
head.--"Oh, beg your pardon, Tom," and the Rector said grace.

"Have you heard what that silly fellow Walter wants to do, Grace?" asked
the Squire.

"Nothing except that he hopes to get married next month," replied Mrs.
Beach, helping herself to an omelette, "and I hope that he will make a
better husband than Tom."

The Rector, already busy, spared her a glance of appreciation, and the
twins giggled at the humour of their favourite.

"Yes, he is going to be married, and he proposes to take Muriel to live
at Melbury Park, of all places in the world."

"Then in that case," replied Mrs. Beach equably, "Tom and I will not
give them the grand piano we had fixed upon for a wedding present. They
must content themselves with the railway whistles."

The twins laughed outright and were ineffectively rebuked by Miss Bird.
That they were to be seen and not heard at table was a maxim she had
diligently instilled into them. But they were quite right to laugh. Aunt
Grace was surpassing herself. She always kept the Squire in a good
humour, by her ready little jokes and the well-disguised deference she
paid him. The deference was not offered to him alone, but to all men
with whom she came in contact, even her husband, and men liked her
immensely. She teased them boldly, but she deferred to their manhood.
Women sometimes grew tired of her sweetness of manner, which was
displayed to them too, and quite naturally. She was a sweet woman, if
also, in spite of her ready tongue, rather a shallow one. Mrs. Clinton
did not like