some want of nature or heaven knows what
feminine need, when she missed me, and wanted me, and found some comfort
in the thought of me.

There was no time for more discussion, and indeed we were all a little
weary of it; but after dinner Uncle Max, who seemed in excellent spirits,
as though he had done something wonderful and was proud of his own
achievements, beckoned me into the inner drawing-room under pretence of
showing me some engravings, and when we found ourselves alone, he said
pleasantly, though abruptly--

'Well, Ursula, I thought you would be glad to have an opportunity of
thanking me, for of course you feel very grateful to me for all the
trouble I have taken.'

'Oh, indeed!' I returned scornfully, for it would never do to encourage
this vainglorious spirit. 'I should have felt more disposed to thank you
if you had not kept me for two days in suspense!'

'That is the result of doing a woman a good turn,' shaking his head
mournfully. 'The moment she gets her own way, she turns upon you and
rends you. Fie, fie on you, little she-bear!'

'Oh, Max, do be quiet a moment.'

'Max, indeed! Where are your manners, child? What would Garston say if he
heard your flippancy?' But by the way he stroked his beard and looked at
me, I saw he was not displeased. No one would have taken him for my uncle
who had seen us together, for he was a young-looking man, and I was old
for my age.

'I do want you to be serious a moment,' I went on plaintively. 'I am
really very obliged to you for having broken the ice: after all, I have
not been badly submerged. I soon rose to the surface when Lesbia held out
a helping hand.'

'Well, now, Ursula, do you not agree with me?--was not Lesbia a darling?'

'She was very nice and sisterly,' I confessed. 'She has more in her than
I ever thought. Poor little thing! I am afraid she is very unhappy, only
she hides it so.'

'Just so. That shows her good sense: the world is very intolerant of a
protracted grief; its victims must learn to dry their eyes quickly.'

Uncle Max was becoming philosophical: this would never do.

'Never mind about Lesbia,' I observed impatiently, 'we can talk about
her in the next room; what I want to know is, how soon I may come to
Heathfield.' For I knew how dilatory men can be about other people's
business, and I fully expected that Uncle Max would put me off to the
summer.

'You may come as soon as you like,' he returned, rather too carelessly.
'Shall w