its being so
signally shown that she could not permit Arthur to enjoy himself without
her. To get home again as fast as possible was her resolution, as
she merely unpacked the articles for immediate use, and after a hasty
toilette, returned to the drawing-room.

Arthur and Violet were in earnest conversation. She fancied herself
an interruption, and did not second their attempts to make it general.
Violet had received a letter from John, and was offering it to Arthur,
who only yawned.

'Five sheets! He writes an abominably small hand! You may tell me what
it is about. Niggers and humming-birds and such cattle, I suppose.'

'He has been to see the bishop. He wants a chaplain to live in the house
with him to teach the negroes, and have the church when it is built.'

'No chance of his coming home, then?'

'No, he is so well and busy. Percy Fotheringham is to send out some
plans for the church--and only think! he has told Percy to come and ask
me about Mr. Fanshawe--don't you remember him?'

'The curate at the chapel at Wrangerton?'

'I once told John of his wish for missionary work, so Percy is to see
about it, and if it will do, send him to Lord Martindale. Percy called
yesterday, but I could not see him; indeed, I had not time to read my
letter; and oh, Theodora, I am so glad you are come, for he wants all
manner of infant school pictures and books for the picaninnies, and it
is just the commission you understand.'

The hearing of John's letter read, so far from mollifying Theodora,
renewed the other grievance. At home, it was only by chance that she
heard of her eldest brother's plans, even when matured and submitted to
his father; and she now found that they were discussed from the first
with Violet, almost requiring her approval. The confidential ease and
flow made it seem unlike John's composition, used as Theodora was to
hear only such letters of his as would bear unfriendly inspection,
entertaining, but like a book of travels. It was a fresh injury to
discover that he had a style from his heart.

Theodora was in a mood to search for subjects of disapproval, but the
cheerful rooms, and even the extemporized dinner, afforded her none; the
only cause of irritation she could find was Arthur's anxiety when the
lamplight revealed Violet's pale exhausted looks. She had forgotten her
fatigue as long as there was anything to be done, and the delight of the
arrival had driven it away; but it now became evident tha