rectory?"

Lydia laughed.

"Didn't I? Well, he's quite decent."

"Mrs. Deacon says he admired you. She's sure he did!" Mrs. Penfold
stooped eagerly toward her daughter, trying to see her face in the
twilight.

"Mrs. Deacon's a goose! You know she is, mother,--you often say so. I met
him first, of course, at the Hunt Ball. And you saw him there too. You
saw me dancing with him."

"But that was only once," said Mrs. Penfold, candidly. "I didn't think
anything of that. When I was a girl, if a young man liked me at a dance,
we went on till we made everybody talk. Or else, there was nothing in
it."

"Well, there was nothing in it, dear--in this case. And I wouldn't advise
you to give me to Lord Tatham--just yet!"

Mrs. Penfold sighed.

"Of course one knows that that kind of young man has his marriage made
for him--just like royalty. But sometimes--they break out. There _are_
dukes that have married plain Misses--no better than you, Lydia--and
not American either. But--Lydia--you _did_ like him?"

"Who? Lord Tatham? Certainly."

"I expect most girls do! He's the great _parti_ about here."

"Mother, _really_!" cried Lydia. "He's just a pleasant youth--not at all
clever. And oh, how badly he plays bridge!"

"That doesn't matter. Mrs. Deacon says you got on with him, splendidly."

"I chaffed him a good deal. He really plays worse than I do--if you can
believe it."

"They like being chaffed"--said Mrs. Penfold pensively--"if a girl does
it well."

"I don't care, darling, whether they like it or not. It amuses me, and so
I do it."

"But you mustn't let them think they're being laughed at. If you do that,
Lydia, you'll be an old maid. Oh, Lydia!"--the speaker sighed like a
furnace--"I _do_ wish you saw more young men!"

"Well, I saw another one--much handsomer than Lord Tatham--this
afternoon," laughed Lydia.

Mrs. Penfold eagerly inquired. The story was told, and Mrs. Penfold, as
easily lured by a new subject as a child by a new doll, fell into many
speculations as to who the youth could have been, and where he was going.
Lydia soon ceased to listen. But when the coverlet slipped away she did
not fail to replace it tenderly over her mother's feet, and every now and
then her fingers gave a caressing touch to the delicate hand of which
Mrs. Penfold was so proud. It was not difficult to see that of the two
the girl was really the mother, in spirit; the maturer, protecting soul.

Presently she roused herself