up from our place in Somerset," explained Mrs.
Pegall, in a comfortable voice. "The girls wanted to see the sights, so
I just said, 'we'll go, dears, and perhaps we'll get a glimpse of the
dear Queen.' I'm sure she has no more loyal subjects than we three."

"Are you going out much this year, dear Mrs. Vrain?" asked Beatrice
Pegall, the elder and plainer of the sisters.

"No, dear," replied Lydia, with a sigh, putting a dainty handkerchief
to her eyes. "You know what I have lost."

The two groaned, and Miss Cecilia Pegall, who was by way of being very
religious in a Low Church way, remarked that "all flesh was grass," to
which observation her excellent mamma rejoined: "Very true, dear, very
true." And then the trio sighed again, and shook their black heads like
so many mandarins.

"I should never support my grief," continued Lydia, still tearful, "if
it was not that I have at least three dear friends. Ah! I shall never
forget that happy Christmas Eve!"

"Last Christmas Eve, dear Mrs. Vrain?" said Cecilia.

"When you were all so kind and good," sobbed Lydia, with a glance at
Lucian, to see that he noticed the confirmation. "We played whist,
didn't we?"

"Four rubbers," groaned Mrs. Pegall, "and retired to bed at ten o'clock,
after prayers and a short hymn. Quite a carol that hymn was, eh, dears?"

"And your poor pa was so bad with his cough," said Beatrice, "I hope it
is better. He went away before dinner, too! Do say your pa is better!"

"Yes, dear, much better," said Lydia, and considering it was four months
since Christmas Eve, Lucian thought it was time Mr. Clyne recovered.

"He enjoyed his tea, though," said Cecilia. "Mr. Clyne always says there
is no tea like ours."

"And no evenings," cried Lydia, who was very glad there were not.
"Poppa and I are coming soon to have a long evening--to play whist
again."

"But, dear Mrs. Vrain, you are not going?"

"I must, dears," with a kiss all round. "I have such a lot to do, and
Mr. Denzil is coming with me, as poppa wants to consult him about some
law business. He's a barrister, you know."

"I hope Mr. Denzil will come and see us again," said Mrs. Pegall,
shaking hands with Lucian. A fat, puffy hand she had, and damp.

"Oh, delighted! delighted!" said Denzil hurriedly.

"Cards and tea, and sensible conversation," said Beatrice seriously, "no
more."

"You forget prayers at ten, dear," rejoined Cecilia in low tones.

"We are a plain family, Mr. Denzil. Yo