renovated home. She had the young wife's delight in its beauty, and she
wanted Ethel to admire it with her.

"We will dine with you to-morrow, Ruth," said Ethel, "and I will come
very early and see all the improvements. I feel sure the house is
lovely, and I am glad father made you such a pretty nest. Nothing is too
pretty for you, Ruth." And there was no insincerity in this compliment.
These two women knew and loved and trusted each other without a shadow
of doubt or variableness.

So Ruth went to her home, and Ethel hastened to Gramercy Park. Madam was
eagerly watching for her arrival.

"I have been impatient for a whole hour, all in a quiver, dearie," she
cried. "It is nearly noon."

"I have been impatient also, Granny, but father and Ruth met us at the
pier and stayed to breakfast with us, and you know how men talk and
talk."

"Ruth and father down at the pier! How you dream!"

"They were really there. And they do seem so happy, grandmother. They
are so much in love with each other."

"I dare say. There are no fools like old fools. So you have sold the
Court to Nicholas Rawdon, and a cotton-spinner is Lord of the Manor.
Well, well, how are the mighty fallen!"

"I made twenty thousand pounds by the sale. Nicholas Rawdon is
a gentleman, and John Thomas is the most popular man in all the
neighborhood. And, Granny, he has two sons--twins--the handsomest little
chaps you ever saw. No fear of a Rawdon to heir the Manor now."

"Fortune is a baggage. When she is ill to a man she knows no reason. She
sent John Thomas to Parliament, and kept Fred out at a loss, too. She
took the Court from Fred and gave it to John Thomas, and she gives
him two sons about the same time she gives Fred one, and that one she
kidnaps out of his sight and knowledge. Poor Fred!"

"Well, grandmother, it is 'poor Fred's' own doing, and, I assure you,
Fred would have been most unwelcome at the Court. And the squires and
gentry round did not like a woman in the place; they were at a loss what
to do with me. I was no good for dinners and politics and hunting.
I embarrassed them." "Of course you would. They would have to talk
decently and behave politely, and they would not be able to tell their
choicest stories. Your presence would be a bore; but could not Tyrrel
take your place?"

"Granny, Tyrrel was really unhappy in that kind of life. And he was a
foreigner, so was I. You know what Yorkshire people think of foreigners.
They were very c