"Who has taken----"

"Here, here!" Caroline hastened to say, and she restored the little
packet to its place. He shut it up; he locked it in with a small key
attached to his watch-guard; he restored the other papers to order,
closed the repository, and sat down without further remark.

"I thought you would have scolded much more, sir," said Henry. "The
girls deserve reprimand."

"I leave them to their own consciences."

"It accuses them of crimes intended as well as perpetrated, sir. If I
had not been here, they would have treated your portfolio as they have
done your desk; but I told them it was padlocked."

"And will you have lunch with us?" here interposed Shirley, addressing
Moore, and desirous, as it seemed, to turn the conversation.

"Certainly, if I may."

"You will be restricted to new milk and Yorkshire oatcake."

"Va--pour le lait frais!" said Louis. "But for your oatcake!" and he
made a grimace.

"He cannot eat it," said Henry. "He thinks it is like bran, raised with
sour yeast."

"Come, then; by special dispensation we will allow him a few cracknels,
but nothing less homely."

The hostess rang the bell and gave her frugal orders, which were
presently executed. She herself measured out the milk, and distributed
the bread round the cosy circle now enclosing the bright little
schoolroom fire. She then took the post of toaster-general; and kneeling
on the rug, fork in hand, fulfilled her office with dexterity. Mr. Hall,
who relished any homely innovation on ordinary usages, and to whom the
husky oatcake was from custom suave as manna, seemed in his best
spirits. He talked and laughed gleefully--now with Caroline, whom he had
fixed by his side, now with Shirley, and again with Louis Moore. And
Louis met him in congenial spirit. He did not laugh much, but he uttered
in the quietest tone the wittiest things. Gravely spoken sentences,
marked by unexpected turns and a quite fresh flavour and poignancy, fell
easily from his lips. He proved himself to be--what Mr. Hall had said he
was--excellent company. Caroline marvelled at his humour, but still more
at his entire self-possession. Nobody there present seemed to impose on
him a sensation of unpleasant restraint. Nobody seemed a bore--a
check--a chill to him; and yet there was the cool and lofty Miss Keeldar
kneeling before the fire, almost at his feet.

But Shirley was cool and lofty no longer, at least not at this moment.
She appeared unconscious of th