er, thinking,
among many other things, of her observation upon the verse of Isaac
Watts.

"Of course," she replied disagreeably. "I can't imagine anybody wanting
to read anything else." She seemed to be ashamed of her kindness to Mr
Shushions, and to wish to efface any impression of amiability that she
might have made on Edwin. But she could not have done so.

"Well," he said to himself, "there's no getting over it. You're the
biggest caution I've ever come across!" His condition was one of
various agitation.

Then, just as they were passing the upper end of the Cock Yard, which
was an archway, Mr Orgreave and Janet appeared in the archway.

"We've been looking for you everywhere."

"And so have we."

"What have you been doing?"

"What have you been doing?"

Father and daughter were gay. They had not seen much, but they were
gay. Hilda Lessways and Edwin were not gay, and Hilda would
characteristically make no effort to seem that which she was not.
Edwin, therefore, was driven by his own diffidence into a nervous light
loquacity. He began the tale of Mr Shushions, and Hilda punctuated it
with stabs of phrases.

Mr Orgreave laughed. Janet listened with eager sympathy.

"Poor old thing! What a shame!" said Janet.

But to Edwin, with the vision of Hilda's mercifulness in his mind, even
the sympathy of Janet for Mr Shushions had a quality of
uncomprehending, facile condescension which slightly jarred on him.

The steam-car loitered into view, discharged two passengers, and began
to manoeuvre for the return journey.

"Oh! Do let's go home by car, father!" cried Janet. "It's too hot for
anything!"

Edwin took leave of them at the car steps. Janet was the smiling
incarnation of loving-kindness. Hilda shook hands grudgingly. Through
the windows of the car he saw her sternly staring at the advertisements
of the interior. He went down the Cock Yard into Wedgwood Street,
whence he could hear the bands again and see the pennons. He thought,
"This is a funny way of spending a morning!" and wondered what he should
do with himself till dinner-time. It was not yet a quarter past twelve.
Still, the hours had passed with extraordinary speed. He stood aimless
at the corner of the pavement, and people who, having had their fill of
the sun and the spectacle in the Square, were strolling slowly away, saw
a fair young man, in a stylish suit, evidently belonging to the aloof
classes, gazing at nothing what