the thundercloud on Molly's countenance;
and, if somewhat rambling in her discourse, nevertheless contriving to
plant her points where she chose.

Thus the long drive wore to its end. The sun was golden upon Pulwick
when the carriage at length drew up before the portico. Miss Sophia
received them in the hall, in a state of painful flutter and timidity.
She had a constitutional terror of her aunt's sharp eyes, and, though
she examined her young cousins wistfully, Madeleine's unconscious air
of dignity repelled her as much as Molly's deliberate pertness.

Rupert conducted his aunt upstairs, and down the long echoing corridor
towards her apartment.

"Ha, my old quarters," quoth Tanty, disengaging herself briskly from
her escort to enter the room and look round approvingly, "and very
comfortable they are. And my two nieces are next door, I see, as gay
as chintz can make them. Thank you, nephew, I shall keep you no
longer. We shall dine shortly, I feel sure. Well, well, I do not
pretend I am not quite ready to do justice to your excellent
fare--beyond doubt, it will be excellent! Go to your room, girls, your
baggage is coming up, you see; I shall send Dempsey to assist you
presently. No, not you, Sophia, I was speaking to the young ones. I
should like to have a little chat with you, my dear, if you have no
objection."

One door closed upon Rupert as he smiled and bowed himself out, the
other upon Molly hustling her sister before her.

Tanty in the highest good humour, having accomplished her desire, and
successfully "established a lodgment" (to use a military term not
inappropriate to such a martial spirit) for her troublesome nieces in
the stronghold of Pulwick, once more surveyed her surroundings: the
dim old walls, the great four-post bed, consecrated, of course, by
tradition to the memory of some royal slumberer, the damask hangings,
and the uncomfortable chairs, with the utmost favour, ending up with a
humorous examination of the elongated figure hesitating on the
hearthrug.

"Be seated, Sophia. I am glad to stretch my old limbs after that
terrible drive. So here we are together again. What are you sighing
for? Upon my soul, you are the same as ever, I see, the same tombstone
on your chest, and blowing yourself out with sighs, just as you used.
That will never give you a figure, my poor girl; it is no wonder you
are but skin and bones. Ah, can't you let the poor fellow rest in his
grave Sophia? it is flying in t