alf_ hiding! Peter saw the laugh; it was
unmistakable. He was made a joke of; his gallantry, his chivalry, were
the subject of a jest for a petticoat--for two petticoats: Miss Helstone
too was smiling. Moreover, he felt he was seen through, and Peter grew
black as a thunder-cloud. When Shirley looked up, a fell eye was
fastened on her. Malone, at least, had energy enough in hate. She saw it
in his glance.

"Peter _is_ worth a scene, and shall have it, if he likes, one day," she
whispered to her friend.

And now--solemn and sombre as to their colour, though bland enough as to
their faces--appeared at the dining-room door the three rectors. They
had hitherto been busy in the church, and were now coming to take some
little refreshment for the body, ere the march commenced. The large
morocco-covered easy-chair had been left vacant for Dr. Boultby. He was
put into it, and Caroline, obeying the instigations of Shirley, who told
her now was the time to play the hostess, hastened to hand to her
uncle's vast, revered, and, on the whole, worthy friend, a glass of
wine and a plate of macaroons. Boultby's churchwardens, patrons of the
Sunday school both, as he insisted on their being, were already beside
him; Mrs. Sykes and the other ladies of his congregation were on his
right hand and on his left, expressing their hopes that he was not
fatigued, their fears that the day would be too warm for him. Mrs.
Boultby, who held an opinion that when her lord dropped asleep after a
good dinner his face became as the face of an angel, was bending over
him, tenderly wiping some perspiration, real or imaginary, from his
brow. Boultby, in short, was in his glory, and in a round, sound _voix
de poitrine_ he rumbled out thanks for attentions and assurances of his
tolerable health. Of Caroline he took no manner of notice as she came
near, save to accept what she offered. He did not see her--he never did
see her; he hardly knew that such a person existed. He saw the
macaroons, however, and being fond of sweets, possessed himself of a
small handful thereof. The wine Mrs. Boultby insisted on mingling with
hot water, and qualifying with sugar and nutmeg.

Mr. Hall stood near an open window, breathing the fresh air and scent of
flowers, and talking like a brother to Miss Ainley. To him Caroline
turned her attention with pleasure. "What should she bring him? He must
not help himself--he must be served by her." And she provided herself
with a little s