'Of course I don't.'

Lydia was not quite at her ease.

'I'm not at all sure of that. Take your things off and sit down in that
chair, and talk to me as if we were in the old room at home. I must see
our room again, Lyddy. I must see it before long.'

Lydia always had to overcome feelings of suspicion and remoteness at
the beginning of her meetings with Thyrza; time had not changed her in
this respect; she still feared that something was being concealed from
her. And to-day it was long before she grew sufficiently accustomed to
the room to talk with freedom. Thyrza lost all hope of persuading her
to have tea with the Emersons. She was obliged to broach the subject,
however, and it excited no less opposition than she had looked for.
Lydia shrank from the thought. Yet, when Thyrza ceased to urge, and
even exerted herself to make her sister forget all about it, Lydia said
all at once:

'Do you always have tea with them on Sundays?'

'Yes. But it doesn't make the least difference. I have it here by
myself other days, and I can do just as I like about it. Don't trouble,
dear.'

'There won't be anybody except those two?'

'Oh no. There never is.'

Lydia changed her mind. Much as she disliked meeting strangers and
sitting at their table, she felt a wish to see these people with whom
Thyrza lived, that she might form her own opinion of them. Thyrza, much
delighted, ran down at once to tell Mrs. Emerson.

Having made up her mind to face the trial, Lydia went through it as
might have been expected, sensibly and becomingly. Clara made much of
her; Mr. Emerson--at home for once--was languidly polite. After tea
Thyrza was asked to sing, but she excused herself as having no voice
to-day. Her real reason was that she could only sing 'week-day' songs,
and, though not certain, she thought it just possible that Lydia might
dislike that kind of thing on Sunday. However, the good Lyddy had not
quite reached that pass.

The sisters went upstairs again. Lydia had found Mrs. Emerson very
different from her expectation, and was feeling a relief. She talked
naturally once more. A subject of much interest to both was the
approaching marriage of Totty Nancarrow.

'But is it _quite_ certain this time, Lyddy?'

'Oh, quite, dear. The names are up in the registry office.'

Lydia knew nothing of Totty's fortune, nor did any one else in Lambeth.
To this day Totty and her husband have kept that a secret.

'Well, what a girl Totty is!'