we thought you might be hungry
after your journey. So don't take too much time in dressing, my dear;
we are plain folks; we will see all your finery another night.
Higgins, have Mrs. Alfred's boxes taken up at once.'

Mrs. Alfred meanwhile stood looking a little puzzled, a little amused,
but not at all shy. She seemed to consider it rather a good joke.

'Go on, Jinny,' her husband said to her lazily; 'I shan't dress.'

'That is an old privilege of Alfred's, my dear,' said Mrs. King,
leading the new-comer away. 'His father, now, hasn't missed dressing
for dinner one evening since we were married, except the night the
vicarage took fire. But I suppose young men are not so ceremonious
now. Here is your room, my dear; Catherine is bringing some hot water,
and she will open your boxes for you.'

And the old lady herself went and stirred up the fire, and drew the low
easy chair nearer to the little table where the tea-things were, and
continued talking in the kindliest way to her new guest until the maid
arrived. Mrs. Alfred had said nothing at all, but she seemed contented
and amused.

At seven o'clock every one had assembled in the drawing-room except
Mrs. Alfred. The Vicar's wife had arrived: she was a stout,
anxious-eyed little woman, who was obviously alarmed, and talked much
to assure those around her that she was quite at ease. Mr. Alfred
himself was lazy, good-natured, indifferent--he had drunk two or three
glasses of sherry meanwhile to pass the time.

Punctually at seven Mrs. Alfred appeared. She looked more prim and
nice and neat than ever in this black silk dress with old lace on the
open square in front and on the cuffs of the tight sleeves.

'Mrs. Lynnton--my daughter Jinny,' said the old white-haired lady,
introducing the new-comer to the Vicar's wife.

Dinner was announced, and the big folding doors thrown open.

'My dear,' said Mr. King to his wife, 'I must take in Mrs. Alfred. It
is a welcome home, you know. Alfred, you take in Mrs. Lynnton. Come
along, child.'

And he gave her his arm with great ceremony, and led her into the long,
old-fashioned dining-room, which was a blaze of candles, and gave her
the seat at his right hand, and immediately called for a fire-screen
lest the fire should be too much.

'Or will you sit the other side, my dear?' said he.

'Oh no, sir,' she said, very prettily, out of compliment to his age.
'Oh no, sir, I am best pleased to sit where you wish me to