re to like you."

"Think so?" said Miriam. "Well, I hope he will; he ought to like his
daughter-in-law; and I mean to make him, if I can. I want to keep the
peace between him and Percy; they haven't been the best of friends, as I
dare say you've heard. Did you cut that dress from a paper pattern, or
how?"

"You've guessed correctly," said Celia, laughing. "It was cut from a
paper pattern, given away with a popular magazine."

"Well, it fits awfully well. And there's a style about it; it's quite
_chic_. Oh, you really must give a hint or two to that idiot of a Marie.
What society is there here? I thought, as we drove from the station,
that the place looked awfully dull and quiet. By the way," she went on,
without waiting for her question to be answered, "didn't I see you
standing at one of the cottages as we drove past?"

"Yes," said Celia. "I had been calling on a friend."

"A friend," repeated Lady Heyton, raising her brows, languidly. "Do you
mean the woman with the baby? I thought she looked quite a common,
ordinary sort of person."

"I should scarcely call Susie common," said Celia, with a smile. "I like
her very much."

"Do you? How quaint! This fire is very jolly. Do you always have one
here?" asked her ladyship, as if her volatile mind had forgotten the
last subject of the conversation.

Celia told her that the fire was lit every evening, and Lady Heyton,
rising with a yawn, remarked that she should often drop in for a warm;
the rest of the house seemed to her chilly. Celia gave the required
invitation, and Lady Heyton stood looking about her vacantly, and as if
she were waiting for the volition to go.

"I say; do tell me your name?" she said, languidly.

Celia told her.

"Awfully pretty name. Mine's Miriam; ridiculously unsuitable, don't you
think? So hard and cold; and I'm anything but that. Pity one can't
choose one's own name! Do you mind if I call you 'Celia'? 'Miss Grant'
is so stiff."

"Oh, not at all," said Celia.

"Thanks very much. What's that?" she asked, starting, her hand going to
her bosom, her brows coming together nervously.

The sound of voices, not in actual altercation, but something very near
it, came from the hall.

"It's the Marquess and Percy," said Miriam, in a low and frightened
voice. "Oh, I do hope they're not quarrelling. I warned Percy. Hush!
Listen!"

She stole to the door and opened it slightly, and Celia heard the
Marquess say:

"I have promised. The money s