ct and involved a great
deal of work and self-sacrifice, she, Nan, thought that Phillis was
right, and that it was the best--indeed the only--thing they could do
under the circumstances.

"For myself, I prefer it infinitely to letting lodgings," finished
Nan: and Phillis looked at her gratefully.

But Mr. Trinder was obstinate and had old-fashioned views, and argued
the whole thing in his dictatorial masculine way. They sat down to
luncheon, and presently sent Dorothy away,--a piece of independence
that bitterly offended that crabbed but faithful individual,--and
wrangled busily through the whole of the meal.

Mr. Trinder never could remember afterwards whether it was lamb or
mutton he had eaten; he had a vague idea that Dulce had handed him the
mint-sauce, and that he had declined it and helped himself to salad.
The doubt disturbed him for the first twenty miles of his homeward
journey. "Good gracious! for a man not to know whether he is eating
lamb or mutton!" he soliloquized, as he vainly tried to enjoy his
usual nap; "but then I never was so upset in my life. Those pretty
creatures, and Challoners too,--bless my soul!" And here the lawyer's
cogitations became confused and misty.

Nan, who had more than once seen tears in the lawyer's shrewd little
gray eyes, had been very gentle and tolerant over the old man's
irritability; but Phillis had resented his caustic speeches somewhat
hotly. Dulce, who was on her best behavior, was determined not to
interfere or say a word to thwart her sisters: she even went so far as
to explain to Mr. Trinder that they would not have to carry parcels,
as Phillis meant to hire a boy. She had no idea that this magnanimous
speech was in a figurative manner the last straw that broke the
camel's back. Mr. Trinder pushed back his chair hastily, made some
excuse that his train must be due, and beat a retreat an hour before
the time, unable to pursue such a painful subject any longer.

Nan rose, with a sigh of relief, as soon as the door closed upon their
visitors, and took refuge in the shady drawing-room with her mother,
whom she found in a very tearful, querulous state, requiring a great
deal of soothing. They had decided that no visitors were to be
admitted that afternoon.

"You may say your mistress is indisposed with a bad headache, Dorothy,
and that we are keeping the house quiet," Nan remarked, with a little
dignity, with the remembrance of that late passage of arms.

"Very well