ill call and see you
soon after ten this evening. Rivers.'"

"Rivers!" repeated Jasper.

His voice grew thoughtful; he did not like Rivers, of all men, to be
mixed up in his domestic affairs. Rivers, at least, must keep him on a
pedestal, and know nothing of his weaknesses--of that infirmity of
temper which he struggled against, and yet, in Judy's presence, could
not conquer. He forgot all about Judy herself in his wonder as to how
Rivers had got mixed up in the matter.

Hilda had seated herself on the sofa, and still holding the open
telegram in her hand, was trying furtively to wipe away her fast-falling
tears.

"I wish you'd stop crying, Hilda," said her husband. "There's nothing to
alarm you in this telegram--nothing whatever. If Judy is with a man like
Tom Rivers, she's as safe as child can be."

"But she has gone home, Jasper; she has gone home to the Rectory,
without even telling me."

"Well, my dear, it's impossible for me to explain away the vagaries of
that most eccentric child. I presume, however, that Rivers has a key to
the mystery, and as he says he will call here after ten o'clock, we
shall know all about it then. No amount of discussion can explain it in
advance. So, Hilda, perhaps you will go upstairs and get ready for
dinner. I'm frightfully hungry."

Hilda rose wearily and left the room at once.

"I think I can guess something--just something of what it means," she
said to herself. "My little Judy--my brave little Judy!"

Judy's letter was lying hidden all this time under the large pin-cushion
on Hilda's dressing table, but as it was not seen, its contents, which
would have explained a good deal, were of course not known.

The dinner which followed this unhappy beginning of the evening was as
dismal and constrained as if poor "trumpery" were still present.

Quentyns, like most men who work hard all day, was particular about this
meal, and to-night of all nights cook had not sent up the soup to his
satisfaction, nor the _entree_ seasoned to his taste. It was all one to
Hilda just now what she ate, but Quentyns pushed his plate impatiently
away, and kept on referring to the excellent dinner he had had the night
before at the Star and Garter. He spoke of his evening as delightful,
and of the house of the new friend where he had slept as altogether
irreproachable.

Hilda felt that he was talking at her all the time, but she had not the
heart to reply to him. The dismal little meal came to a