orically, Phoebe?'

'Much more Fennimorically than I wish her to hear, or you to speak,' said
Honora; 'you talk as if there were no such thing as truth.'

'Ah! now comes the question of subjective and objective, and I was as
innocent as possible of any intention of plunging into such a sea, or
bringing those furrows into your forehead, dear Honor! See what it is to
talk to you and Miss Fennimore's pupil. All things, human and divine,
have arisen out of my simple endeavour to show you that you must come to
Castle Blanch, the planners of the feast having so ordained, and it being
good for all parties, due from the fairy godmother to the third princess,
and seriously giving Cilly another chance of returning within the bounds
of discretion.'

Honora thought as much. She hoped that Robert would by that time have
assumed his right to plead with Lucilla, and that in such a case she
should be a welcome refuge, and Phoebe still more indispensable; so her
lips opened in a yielding smile, and Phoebe thanked her rapturously,
vague hopes of Robert's bliss adding zest to the anticipation of the
lifting of the curtain which hid the world of brightness.

'There's still time,' said Owen, with his hand on the check-string;
'which do you patronize? Redmayne or--'

'Nonsense,' smiled Honor, 'we can't waste our escort upon women's work.'

'Ladies never want a gentleman more than when their taste is to be
directed.'

'He is afraid to trust us, Phoebe.'

'Conscience has spoken,' said Owen; 'she knows how she would go and
disguise herself in an old dowager's gown to try to look like sixty!'

'As for silk gowns--'

'I positively forbid it,' he cried, cutting her short; 'it is five years
old!'

'A reason why I should not have another too grand to wear out.'

'And you never ought to have had it. Phoebe, it was bought when Lucy was
seventeen, on purpose to look as if she was of a fit age for a
wall-flower, and so well has the poor thing done its duty, that Lucy
hears herself designated as the pretty girl who belongs to the violet and
white! If she had known _that_ was coming after her, I won't answer for
the consequence.'

'If it _does_ annoy Lucy--we do not so often go out together--don't,
Owen, I never said it was to be now, I am bent on Landseer.'

'But I said so,' returned Owen, 'for Miss Charlecote regards the
distressed dressmakers--four dresses--think of the fingers that must ache
over them.'

'Well, he does what he