bell!'--interrupting
herself. 'Now you will not be kept any longer from your dinner,
Percival.'

'I was not thinking of myself,' he returned, with rather an annoyed air;
for he was a quick-tempered man, and he was really very hungry. Thanks
to his wife's splendid management, the meals were always punctual at
Hillside. A deviation of five minutes would have boded woe to the best
cook. Mr. Harcourt was no domestic tyrant; the boys, the servants,
always looked upon him as a kind friend; but he was an exact
disciplinarian, and the wheels of the domestic machinery at Hillside
went smoothly. If Geraldine complained that one of the servants did not
do her duty, his answer was always prompt: 'Send her away and get
another. A servant without a conscience will never do for me.' But, as a
matter of fact, no master was better served.

To Audrey's relief, Michael appeared with Mr. Blake. He came in looking
a little pale from the exertion of dressing so hurriedly, and Audrey's
conscience pricked her for want of consideration as she saw that he
limped more than usual, always a sign with him of over-fatigue. Mr.
Blake looked handsomer than ever in evening dress, and Audrey noticed
that Geraldine looked at him more than once, as though his appearance
struck her. He certainly seemed very shy, and made his excuses to his
hostess in a low voice.

'I ought not to have accepted Dr. Ross's kind invitation,' he said,
starting a little as the dinner-bell immediately followed his entrance;
'everything is in such confusion at home.'

'I suppose it was like hunting for a needle in a truss of hay,' observed
Michael, in a genial voice. 'I can imagine the difficulties of making a
toilet under such moving circumstances. No pun intended, I assure you.
Don't look as though you want to hit me, Harcourt. I would not be guilty
of a real pun for the world.'

Mr. Harcourt was unable to reply at that moment, as he had to offer
Audrey his arm and follow Dr. Ross into the dining-room; but as soon as
they were seated and grace had been said, he addressed Michael.

'I need not ask an omnivorous reader as you are, Burnett, if you
remember "Elia's" remarks about puns.'

'I suppose you mean that "a pun is a pistol let off at the ear, not a
feather to tickle the intellect." Poor old "Elia"! what a man he was!
With all his frailties he was adorable.'

'Humph! I should be sorry to go as far as that; but I own I like his
quaint, racy style. Dr. Ross is a ferv