hich on the whole characterised
her. She continued to talk with much vivacity, making at the same time a
hearty meal. Her place at the table was between Wilfrid and Patty; on
the opposite side sat Miss Hood and Minnie. As often as her eyes fell
upon the governess's face, they rested there for a moment, searchingly,
as if with endeavour to recall some memory.

'Who is responsible for your vegetarianism?' Wilfrid asked. 'Is Mr.
Cresset preaching the doctrine?'

'No, Mr. Cresset is not preaching the doctrine,' was the reply, in a
tone which evidently contained reference to previous dissensions.

'Surely there is nothing offensive in the suggestion?' remarked the
young man mildly.

'Yes, there is something offensive. Your references to Mr. Cresset are
always offensive.'

'You do me injustice. Aunt, I take you to witness, didn't I praise
ungrudgingly a sermon of his we heard last Christmas?'

'I remember quite well,' said Beatrice; 'you regarded it as
extraordinary that anything good could come from that source, Mr. Athel,
I take you to witness, wasn't that his tone?'

'Patty,' interposed Mrs. Rossall, 'do change your place and sit between
those two; they never can be next each other without quarrelling.'

Breakfast drew out to unusual length. Miss Redwing was full of the
season's news, and Mrs. Rossall's reviving interest in such vanities
scarcely affected concealment. Mr. Athel, too, though he supported a
jesting tone, clearly enjoyed listening to the girl's vivacious comments
on the world which amuses itself. Wilfrid talked less than usual.

He and his father strolled together into the garden an hour later, and
found Beatrice reclining in a hammock which had recently been suspended
in a convenient spot. She had one hand beneath her head, the other held
a large fan, with which she warded off stray flakes of sunlight falling
between the leaves.

'Isn't this exquisite?' she cried. 'Let no one hint to me of stirring
before lunch-time. I am going to enjoy absolute laziness.'

'I thought you would have preferred a gallop over the downs,' said Mr.
Athel.

'Oh, we'll have that this afternoon; you may talk of it now, and I shall
relish it in anticipation. Or, better still, sit down and tell us old
stories about Egypt, and let us forget the age we live in.'

'What is amiss with the age?' inquired Mr. Athel, who stood smoking a
cigar and was in his wonted state of satisfaction with himself and the
universe.

'Every