er was sitting on
a stool at her feet, with his knees up to his chin, very warm and dusty,
eating pound cake.

'Where the mischief have you been hiding yourself all day, Jack?' he
called out as Hammond appeared, looking round the room as he entered,
with eager, interrogating eyes, for that one figure which was absent.

'I have been for a walk.'

'You might have had the civility to announce your design, and Molly and
I would have shared your peregrinations.'

'I am sorry that I lost the privilege of your company.'

'I suppose you lost your luncheon, which was of more importance,' said
Maulevrier.

'Will you have some tea?' asked Mary, who looked more womanly than usual
in a cream-coloured surah gown--one of her Sunday gowns.

She had a faint hope that by this essentially feminine apparel she might
lessen the prejudicial effect of Maulevrier's cruel story about the
fox-hunt.

Mr. Hammond answered absently, hardly looking at Mary, and quite
unconscious of her pretty gown.

'Thanks, yes,' he said, taking the cup and saucer, and looking at the
door by which he momently expected Lady Lesbia's entrance, and then, as
the door did not open, he looked down at Mary, very busy with china
teapots and a brass kettle which hissed and throbbed over a spirit lamp.

'Won't you have some cake,' she asked, looking up at him gently, grieved
at the distress and disappointment in his face. 'I am sure you must be
dreadfully hungry.'

'Not in the least, thanks. How came you to be entrusted with those
sacred vessels, Lady Mary? What has become of Fraeulein and your sister?'

'They have rushed off to St. Bees. Grandmother thought Lesbia looking
pale and out of spirits, and packed her off to the seaside at a minute's
notice.'

'What! She has left Fellside?' asked Hammond, paling suddenly, as if a
man had struck him. 'Lady Maulevrier, do I understand that Lady Lesbia
has gone away?'

He asked the question in an authoritative tone, with the air of a man
who had a right to be answered. The dowager wondered at his surpassing
insolence.

'My granddaughter has gone to the seaside with her governess,' she said,
haughtily.

'At a minute's notice?'

'At a minute's notice. I am not in the habit of hesitating about any
step which I consider necessary for my grandchildren's welfare.'

She looked him full in the face, with those falcon eyes of hers; and he
gave her back a look as resolute, and every whit as full of courage and
of pride