ht you would sit for ever pining in your cage till your mate came
back again. What a naughty wandering bird he is!"

"Don't, Eulalie. No teasing. I am sure we were all very sorry for your
loneliness, dear Agatha."

"Thank you for giving yourselves that trouble."

"Oh, no trouble at all," said the well-meaning and simple Mary. "And we
would have come to see you or fetched you here, but I had to go so
much to Thornhurst while Anne was ill, and Eulalie--somehow--I don't
know--but Eulalie is always busy."

Eulalie, whose hardest toil was looking in the glass, and patting her
dog's ears, assented apologetically. Perhaps she read something in her
sister-in-law's face which showed her that Agatha was not to be trifled
with.

"Will you go up and see Elizabeth? She has often asked for you."

"Has she? I will go after dinner," briefly answered Agatha She would not
be got rid of in that way.

"Shall we sit and talk then, till my father comes in with that queer
little man who has been with him all day? about whom Mary and I have
been vainly puzzling our brains. Such an ugly little fellow, and,
between you and me, not _quite_ a gentleman. I wonder at papa's asking
him to stay and dine. I shan't do the civil to him; you may."

"Thanks for the permission."

"Perhaps that is the very reason Papa sent for you," continued Eulalie,
stretching herself out on the sofa. "The person said he knew you,
and asked Mary where you were living, and whether you were very happy
together, you and your husband."

Agatha rose abruptly, dashing down a heavy volume that lay on her
knee--she certainly had not a mild temper. While she wavered between
reining in her anger as she had last night vowed, and pouring upon
Eulalie all the storm of her roused passions--the door opened, and Mr.
Harper entered with his much-depreciated guest.

The old gentleman was dressed with unusual care, and walked with even
more of slow stateliness than ordinary. He met Agatha with his customary
kindness.

"Welcome. You have been somewhat of a stranger lately. It must not
happen again, my dear." And drawing her arm through his, he faced the
"little ugly fellow" of Eulalie's dislike.

"Mr. Grimes, let me present you to my son's wife, Mrs. Locke Harper."

"You forget, sir," interrupted Grimes, importantly; "I have long ago had
that honour, through Major"--

The old Squire started, put his hand to his forehead--"Yes, yes, I did
forget. My memory, sir--my memory is