as it had been told to Mr Ball, and
nevertheless he determined to persevere. He went to work diligently
on that very afternoon, deserting the smiles of Miss Colza, and made
such inquiries into the law of the matter as were possible to him;
and they resulted, as far as Miss Mackenzie was concerned, in his
appearing late one afternoon at the front door of Sir John Ball's
house. On the day following this Miss Mackenzie was to keep her
appointment with Mr Slow, and her cousin was now up in London among
the lawyers.

Miss Mackenzie was sitting with her aunt when Mr Rubb called.
They were both in the drawing-room; and Lady Ball, who had as yet
succeeded in learning nothing, and who was more than ever convinced
that there was much to learn, was not making herself pleasant to her
companion. Throughout the whole week she had been very unpleasant.
She did not quite understand why Margaret's sojourn at the Cedars
had been and was to be so much prolonged. Margaret, feeling herself
compelled to say something on the subject, had with some hesitation
told her aunt that she was staying till she had seen her lawyer
again, because her cousin wished her to stay.

In answer to this, Lady Ball had of course told her that she was
welcome. Her ladyship had then cross-questioned her son on that
subject also, but he had simply said that as there was law business
to be done, Margaret might as well stay at Twickenham till it was
completed.

"But, my dear," Lady Ball had said, "her law business might go on for
ever, for what you know."

"Mother," said the son, sternly, "I wish her to stay here at present,
and I suppose you will not refuse to permit her to do so."

After this, Lady Ball could go no further.

On the day on which Mr Rubb was announced in the drawing-room,
the aunt and niece were sitting together. "Mr Rubb--to see Miss
Mackenzie," said the old servant, as he opened the door.

Miss Mackenzie got up, blushing to her forehead, and Lady Ball rose
from her chair with an angry look, as though asking the oilcloth
manufacturer how he dared to make his way in there. The name of the
Rubbs had been specially odious to all the family at the Cedars since
Tom Mackenzie had carried his share of Jonathan Ball's money into the
firm in the New Road. And Mr Rubb's appearance was not calculated to
mitigate this anger. Again he had got on those horrid yellow gloves,
and again had dressed himself up to his idea of the garb of a man of
fashion. To