e enjoyed it, and even Blanche could not help laughing at
her mother's dismay. Lady Mary's was no simulation of despair. She
pictured, as Cottrell would have divined, herself and her former foe
once more pitted against each other as rivals, and recalled rather
bitterly that campaign of four or five years back, when another niece
of that lady's successfully carried off an eligible _parti_ that she,
Lady Mary, had at that time selected as suitable for her eldest
daughter. She had congratulated her antagonist in most orthodox
fashion when the engagement was announced; and, though nothing but the
most honied words were exchanged between them, Mrs. Wriothesley had
contrived to let her see, as a woman always can, that she was quite
aware of her disappointment, and thoroughly cognizant that her soft
speeches were as dust and ashes in her mouth.

"Well, good night, mamma," said Blanche, breaking in upon her mother's
reverie. "Although you don't like Mrs. Wriothesley, I really don't
think that need interfere with your slumbers."

"My dear, you don't know her," rejoined Lady Mary, with a vindictive
emphasis that sent Blanche laughing out of the room.

Jim Bloxam might have his faults, but no one could charge him with lack
of energy. Whatever he busied himself about, Jim did it with all his
might. He had--as in these days who has not?--dabbled a little in
amateur theatricals; and, whatever his audience might think of his
performance, the stage-manager would emphatically testify that he threw
himself into the business heart and soul. That he should take counsel
with Mrs. Sartoris next morning concerning the proposed charades was
only what might have been expected; and then, an unusual thing in a
country-house party, a dearth of talent was discovered. Neither
Blanche nor the Misses Evesham had ever taken part in anything of the
kind, and declared in favour of being lookers-on. Mr. Sartoris
promised to assist to the extent of his ability; but neither he nor his
wife would accept the responsibility of deciding what they should do,
or in fact undertaking the management. The trio seemed rather
nonplussed, when Pansey Cottrell, who had taken no part in the
discussion, said quietly,

"Why don't you go down to the rectory, and talk things over with the
young ladies there? Miss Sylla is very clever in that way, I can
vouch, having seen her."

"Of course," exclaimed Jim. "How stupid of me not to think of it
before! Get you