ng on well?" asked Mrs. Poynsett.

"Sweetly! Couldn't be better. They have all amalgamated and are in
the midst of the 'old family coach,' with Captain Duncombe telling
the story. He is quite up to the trick, and enjoys turning the
tables on his ladies."

"And Camilla?" asked Lenore, in a hesitating, anxious tone

"Oh! she's gone in for it. I think she is the springs! I heard her
ask where you were, and Charley told her; so you need not be afraid
to stay in peace, if you have a turn that way. Good-bye; you'd
laugh to see how delighted people are to be let off the lecture."
And she bent over Lenore with a parting kiss, full of significance
of congratulation.

She returned, after changing her dress, to find a pretty fairy
tableau, contrived by the Bowater sisters, in full progress, and
delighting the children and the mothers. Lady Vivian contrived to
get a word with her as she returned.

"Beautifully managed, Lady Rosamond. I tell Cecil she should enjoy
a defeat by such strategy."

"It is Mrs. Poynsett's regular Christmas party," said Rosamond, not
deigning any other reply.

"I congratulate her on her skilful representatives," said Lady
Tyrrell. "May I ask if we are to see the hero of the day? No?
What! you would say better employed? Poor children, we must let
them alone to-night for their illusion, though I am sorry it should
be deepened; it will be only the more pain by and by."

"I don't see that," said Rosamond, stoutly.

"Ah! Lady Rosamond, you are a happy young bride, untaught what is
l'impossible." Rosamond could not help thinking that no one
understood it better than she, as the eldest of a large family with
more rank and far more desires than means; but she disliked Lady
Tyrrell far too much for even her open nature to indulge in
confidences, and she made a successful effort to escape from her
neighbourhood by putting two pale female Fullers into the place of
honour in front of the folding doors into the small drawing-room,
which served as a stage, and herself hovered about the rear, wishing
she could find some means of silencing Miss Moy's voice, which was
growing louder and more boisterous than ever.

The charade which Rosamond had expected was the inoffensive, if
commonplace, Inspector, and the window she beheld, when the curtain
drew up, was, she supposed, the bar of an inn. But no; on the board
were two heads, ideals of male and female beauty, one with a waxed
moustache, the other