th the green blinds. That table, which was partly
visible to Francis through the chestnut leaves, was destined to serve as
a sideboard, and carried relays of plates and the materials for salad:
the other, which was almost entirely concealed, had been set apart for
the diners, and Francis could catch glimpses of white cloth and silver
plate.

Mr. Rolles arrived, punctual to the minute; he looked like a man upon
his guard, and spoke low and sparingly. The Dictator, on the other hand,
appeared to enjoy an unusual flow of spirits; his laugh, which was
youthful and pleasant to hear, sounded frequently from the garden; by
the modulation and the changes of his voice it was obvious that he told
many droll stories and imitated the accents of a variety of different
nations; and before he and the young clergyman had finished their
vermouth all feeling of distrust was at an end, and they were talking
together like a pair of school companions.

At length Miss Vandeleur made her appearance, carrying the soup-tureen.
Mr. Rolles ran to offer her assistance, which she laughingly refused;
and there was an interchange of pleasantries among the trio which seemed
to have reference to this primitive manner of waiting by one of the
company.

"One is more at one's ease," Mr. Vandeleur was heard to declare.

Next moment they were all three in their places, and Francis could see
as little as he could hear of what passed. But the dinner seemed to go
merrily; there was a perpetual babble of voices and sound of knives and
forks below the chestnut; and Francis, who had no more than a roll to
gnaw, was affected with envy by the comfort and deliberation of the
meal. The party lingered over one dish after another, and then over a
delicate dessert, with a bottle of cold wine, carefully uncorked by the
hand of the Dictator himself. As it began to grow dark a lamp was set
upon the table and a couple of candles on the sideboard; for the night
was perfectly pure, starry, and windless. Light overflowed besides from
the door and window in the verandah, so that the garden was fairly
illuminated and the leaves twinkled in the darkness.

For perhaps the tenth time Miss Vandeleur entered the house; and on
this occasion she returned with the coffee-tray, which she placed upon
the sideboard. At the same moment her father rose from his seat.

"The coffee is my province," Francis heard him say.

And the next moment he saw his supposed father standing by the si