and see my friend insulted.
Ferdinand is insufferable with his pride--he's jealous of everybody who
has manners, and Drummond approves him, and I will not bear it.'

Lady Jocelyn hated household worries, and quietly remarked that the
young men must fight it out together.

'No, but it's your duty to interfere, Mama,' said Rose; 'and I know
you will when I tell you that Ferdinand declares my friend Evan is a
tradesman--beneath his notice. Why, it insults me!'

Lady Jocelyn looked out from a lofty window on such veritable squabbles
of boys and girls as Rose revealed.

'Can't you help them to run on smoothly while they're here?' she said to
Drummond, and he related the scene at the Green Dragon.

'I think I heard he was the son of Sir Something Harrington, Devonshire
people,' said Lady Jocelyn.

'Yes, he is,' cried Rose, 'or closely related. I'm sure I understood the
Countess that it was so. She brought the paper with the death in it to
us in London, and shed tears over it.'

'She showed it in the paper, and shed tears over it?' said Drummond,
repressing an inclination to laugh. 'Was her father's title given in
full?'

'Sir Abraham Harrington, replied Rose. 'I think she said father, if the
word wasn't too common-place for her.'

'You can ask old Tom when he comes, if you are anxious to know,' said
Drummond to her ladyship. 'His brother married one of the sisters. By
the way, he's coming, too. He ought to clear up the mystery.'

'Now you're sneering, Drummond,' said Rose: 'for you know there 's no
mystery to clear up.'

Drummond and Lady Jocelyn began talking of old Tom Cogglesby, whom, it
appeared, the former knew intimately, and the latter had known.

'The Cogglesbys are sons of a cobbler, Rose,' said Lady Jocelyn. 'You
must try and be civil to them.'

'Of course I shall, Mama,' Rose answered seriously.

'And help the poor Countess to bear their presence as well as
possible,' said Drummond. 'The Harringtons have had to mourn a dreadful
mesalliance. Pity the Countess!'

'Oh! the Countess! the Countess!' exclaimed Rose to Drummond's pathetic
shake of the head. She and Drummond were fully agreed about the
Countess; Drummond mimicking the lady: 'In verity, she is most
mellifluous!' while Rose sugared her lips and leaned gracefully
forward with 'De Saldar, let me petition you--since we must endure
our title--since it is not to be your Louisa?' and her eyes sought the
ceiling, and her hand slowly melted into