ience towards his neglected and unhappy sister, was to
plan a marriage between his son and her child. He rubbed his hands and
drank two extra glasses of wine.

"We'll have the Brownes to dinner, as usual, next Thursday," said he, "I am
sure your mother would have been hurt if we had omitted it; it is now nine
years since they began to come, and they have never missed one Christmas
since. Do you see any objection, Frank?"

"None at all, sir," answered he. "I intend to go up to town soon after
Christmas, for a week or ten days, on my way to Cambridge. Can I do
anything for you?"

"Well, I don't know. I think I shall go up myself some day soon. I can't
understand all these lawyer's letters, about the purchase of the Newbridge
estate; and I fancy I could make more sense out of it all, if I saw Mr.
Hodgson."

"I wish you would adopt my plan, of having an agent, sir. Your affairs are
really so complicated now, that they would take up the time of an expert
man of business. I am sure all those tenants at Dumford ought to be seen
after."

"I do see after them. There's never a one that dares cheat me, or that
would cheat me if they could. Most of them have lived under the Buxtons for
generations. They know that if they dared to take advantage of me, I should
come down upon them pretty smartly."

"Do you rely upon their attachment to your family--or on their idea of your
severity?"

"On both. They stand me instead of much trouble in account-keeping, and
those eternal lawyers' letters some people are always dispatching to their
tenants. When I'm cheated, Frank, I give you leave to make me have an
agent, but not till then. There's my little Erminia singing away, and
nobody to hear her."

CHAPTER V.

Christmas-Day was strange and sad. Mrs. Buxton had always contrived to be
in the drawing-room, ready to receive them all after dinner. Mr. Buxton
tried to do away with his thoughts of her by much talking; but every now
and then he looked wistfully toward the door. Erminia exerted herself to
be as lively as she could, in order, if possible, to fill up the vacuum.
Edward, who had come over from Woodchester for a walk, had a good deal to
say; and was, unconsciously, a great assistance with his never-ending flow
of rather clever small-talk. His mother felt proud of her son, and his new
waistcoat, which was far more conspicuously of the latest fashion than
Frank's could be said to be. After dinner, when Mr. Buxton and the two