sation in the evening. Sir Tom went to the sofa
from which she had so cleverly ousted his aunt, as soon as he came in
after dinner, and leaning over her with his arm on the mantelpiece, or
drawing a chair beside her, would laugh and talk with endless spirit and
amusement. When he talked of the people in the neighbourhood who
afforded scope for satire, she would tap him with her fan and say, "Why
do I not see these originals? bring them to see me," to Lucy's wonder
and often dismay. "They would not amuse you at all," Sir Tom would
reply, upon which the lady would turn and call Lucy to her. "My little
angel! he pretends that it is he that is so clever, that he creates
these characters. We do not believe him, my Lucy, do we? Ask them, ask
them, _cara_, then we shall judge."

In this way the house was filled evening after evening. A reign of
boundless hospitality seemed to have begun. The other affairs of the
house slipped aside, and to provide amusement for the Contessa became
the chief object of life. She had everybody brought to see her, from the
little magnates of Farafield to the Duchess herself, and the greatest
people in the county. The nursery, which had been so much, perhaps too
much, in the foreground, regulating the whole great household according
as little Tom was better or worse, was thrust altogether into the
shadow. If neglect was wholesome, then he had that advantage. Even his
mother could do no more than run furtively to him, as she did about a
hundred times a day in the intervals of her duties. His little mendings
and fallings back ceased to be the chief things in the house. His
father, indeed, would play with his child in the mornings when he was
brought to Lucy's room; but the burden of his remarks was to point out
to her how much better the little beggar got on when there was less fuss
made about him. And Lucy's one grievance against her visitor, the only
one which she permitted herself to perceive, was that she never took any
notice of little Tom. She never asked for him, a thing which was
unexampled in Lucy's experience. When he was produced she smiled,
indeed, but contemplated him at a distance. The utmost stretch of
kindness she had ever shown was to touch his cheek with a finger
delicately when he was carried past her. Lucy made theories in her mind
about this, feeling it necessary to account in some elaborate way for
what was so entirely out of nature. "I know what it must be--she must
have lost h