its way outward in tears. Without waiting to know
whether she was excused or not, without stopping to hear a word more,
she left the summer-house.

Lady Lundie's magnificent black eyes opened to their utmost width, and
blazed with their most dazzling brightness. She appealed to Sir Patrick,
poised easily on his ivory cane, and looking out at the lawn-party, the
picture of venerable innocence.

"After what I have already told you, Sir Patrick, of Miss Silvester's
conduct, may I ask whether you consider _that_ proceeding at all
extraordinary?"

The old gentleman touched the spring in the knob of his cane, and
answered, in the courtly manner of the old school:

"I consider no proceeding extraordinary Lady Lundie, which emanates from
your enchanting sex."

He bowed, and took his pinch. With a little jaunty flourish of the hand,
he dusted the stray grains of snuff off his finger and thumb, and looked
back again at the lawn-party, and became more absorbed in the diversions
of his young friends than ever.

Lady Lundie stood her ground, plainly determined to force a serious
expression of opinion from her brother-in-law. Before she could speak
again, Arnold and Blanche appeared together at the bottom of the steps.
"And when does the dancing begin?" inquired Sir Patrick, advancing to
meet them, and looking as if he felt the deepest interest in a speedy
settlement of the question.

"The very thing I was going to ask mamma," returned Blanche. "Is she in
there with Anne? Is Anne better?"

Lady Lundie forthwith appeared, and took the answer to that inquiry on
herself.

"Miss Silvester has retired to her room. Miss Silvester persists in
being ill. Have you noticed, Sir Patrick, that these half-bred sort of
people are almost invariably rude when they are ill?"

Blanche's bright face flushed up. "If you think Anne a half-bred person,
Lady Lundie, you stand alone in your opinion. My uncle doesn't agree
with you, I'm sure."

Sir Patrick's interest in the first quadrille became almost painful to
see. "_Do_ tell me, my dear, when _is_ the dancing going to begin?"

"The sooner the better," interposed Lady Lundie; "before Blanche picks
another quarrel with me on the subject of Miss Silvester."

Blanche looked at her uncle. "Begin! begin! Don't lose time!" cried the
ardent Sir Patrick, pointing toward the house with his cane. "Certainly,
uncle! Any thing that _you_ wish!" With that parting shot at her
step-mother, Blanche wit