full lip swelled, and her eyes swam, ready to laugh or weep, in full
faith in her sister's answer.

Ethel told of Meta's captain, and the smile predominated, and settled
down into Mary's usual broad beamy look, like a benignant rising sun
on the sign of an inn, as Ethel praised her warmly for a fortitude and
consideration of which she had not thought her capable.

Dr. Spencer was discovered full in the midst of the comedy of the forty
thieves, alternating, as required, between the robber-captain and the
ass, and the children in perfect ecstasies with him.

They all followed in his train to the drawing-room, and were so
clamorous, that he could have no conversation with Margaret. He
certainly made them so, but Ethel, remembering what a blow her
disclosures had been, thought it would be only a kindness to send Aubrey
to show him to his room, where he might have some peace.

She was not sorry to be very busy, so as to have little time to reply
to the questions on the doings at Oxford, and the cause of her sudden
return; and yet it would have been a comfort to be able to sit down
to understand herself, and recall her confused thoughts. But solitary
reflection was a thing only to be hoped for in that house in bed, and
Ethel was obliged to run up and down, and attend to everybody, under
an undefined sense that she had come home to a dull, anxious world of
turmoil.

Margaret seemed to guess nothing, that was one comfort; she evidently
thought that her return was fully accounted for by the fascination of
her papa's presence in a strange place. She gave Ethel no credit for
the sacrifice, naturally supposing that she could not enjoy herself
away from home. Ethel did not know whether to be glad or not; she was
relieved, but it was flat. As to Norman Ogilvie, one or two inquiries
whether she liked him, and if Norman were going to Scotland with him,
were all that passed, and it was very provoking to be made so hot and
conscious by them.

She could not begin to dress till late, and while she was unpacking, she
heard her father come home, among the children's loud welcomes, and
go to the drawing-room. He presently knocked at the door between their
rooms.

"So Margaret does not know?" he said.

"No, Mary has been so very good;" and she told what had passed.

"Well done, Mary, I must tell her so. She is a good girl on a pinch, you
see!"

"And we don't speak of it now? Or will it hurt Margaret more to think we
keep things