you
seem to think so, Dick."

"It is as good a use as another," said Dick. But as he went upstairs
shortly after, the candle which he carried in his hand lighted up, in
the midst of the darkness of the peaceful, sleeping house, a face which
revealed anything rather than an inclination to get laughter out of
everything. Nevertheless, he had pledged himself to stay for the dinner
at the Warren which was to cost Mrs. Warrender an effort. It might cost
him more than an effort, he said to himself.

CHAPTER XIV.

"One day is the same to us as another. We see nobody."

"Oh, of course!" said Mrs. Wilberforce. "Dear Mrs. Warrender, it is so
noble of you to make such an effort. I hope Theo will appreciate it as
it deserves."

Mrs. Warrender coloured a little, as one is apt to do when condemned by
too much praise. It is difficult sometimes to tell which is worse, the
too little or the too much: but she did not make any reply.

"But I am glad it does not make any difference to have us to-night; that
is, if you meant me to come?--or perhaps it was only the two gentlemen?
I see now: to be sure, two gentlemen is no party; they need not even
come back to the drawing-room at all. I am so glad I came to inquire,
for now I understand perfectly. And you are sure it will quite suit you
to have them to-night?"

"Of course," said Minnie, "Mamma does not look upon you as company, dear
Mrs. Wilberforce; it will be only a relief if you come, for gentlemen,
and especially new people, who don't know what we have lost nor anything
about us, are trying. Mr. Cavendish, I remember, was quite nice when we
had tea in his rooms at Commemoration, and if all had been well---- But
I am sure mamma forms too high an estimate of her own powers. What I am
afraid of is that she will break down."

"To be sure, dear Minnie, if you are afraid of that----" said the
rector's wife, and so it was settled. Chatty took no part at all in the
arrangements. She had not joined in her sister's severe animadversions
as to the dinner-party. For herself, she was glad of the change;
it might be wrong, but she could not help being glad. It was, she
acknowledged to herself, rather dull never to see any but the same faces
day after day. And Mr. Cavendish was very nice; he had a cheerful face,
and such a merry laugh. To be sure, it would not be right for Chatty
herself to laugh, in the circumstances, in her deep mourning, but it
was a mild and surely innocent grati