lcoming them cordially, and, as usual, accusing
Uncle Geoffrey of spoiling her boys. Henrietta thought she had never
seen a happier face than hers in the midst of cares, and children, and
a drawing-room which, with its faded furniture strewn with toys, had in
fact, as Beatrice said, something of the appearance of a nursery.

Little Tom, the youngest, was sitting on the lap of his cousin, Jessie
Carey, at whom Henrietta looked with some curiosity. She was a pretty
girl of twenty, with a brilliant gipsy complexion, fine black hair, and
a face which looked as good-natured as every other inhabitant of Sutton
Leigh.

But it would be tedious to describe a visit which was actually very
tedious to Beatrice, and would have been the same to Henrietta but
for its novelty. Aunt Roger asked all particulars about Mrs. Frederick
Langford, then of Aunt Geoffrey and Lady Susan St. Leger, and then gave
the history of the misfortunes of little Tom, who was by this time on
Uncle Geoffrey's knee looking at himself in the inside of the case of
his watch. Henrietta's list, too, was considerably lengthened; for Uncle
Geoffrey advised upon a smoky chimney, mended a cart of Charlie's, and
assisted Willie in a puzzling Latin exercise.

It was almost one o'clock, and as a certain sound of clattering plates
was heard in the next room, Aunt Roger begged her guests to come in to
luncheon. Uncle Geoffrey accepted for the girls, who were to walk on
with him; but Mr. Langford, no eater of luncheons, returned to his own
affairs at home. Henrietta found the meal was the family dinner. She had
hardly ever been seated at one so plain, or on so long a table; and she
was not only surprised, but tormented herself by an uncomfortable and
uncalled-for fancy, that her hosts must be supposing her to be remarking
on deficiencies. The younger children were not so perfect in the
management of knife, fork, and spoon, as to be pleasant to watch; nor
was the matter mended by the attempts at correction made from time
to time by their father and Jessie. But Henrietta endured better
than Beatrice, whose face ill concealed an expression of disgust and
weariness, and who maintained a silence very unlike her usual habits.

At last Uncle Geoffrey, to the joy of both, proposed to pursue their
walk, and they took leave. Queen Bee rejoiced as soon as they had
quitted the house, that the boys were too well occupied with their
pudding to wish to accompany them, but she did not v