sat down on opposite sides of the fireplace; Mrs.
Barclay smiling inwardly, for she knew that Philip was impatient;
however, nothing could be more sedate to all appearance than she was.

"Do you hear how the wind moans in the chimney?" she said. "That means
rain."

"Rather dismal, isn't it?"

"No. In this house nothing is dismal. There is a wholesome way of
looking at everything."

"Not at money?"

"It is no use, Philip, to talk to people about what they cannot
understand."

"I thought understanding on that point was universal."

"They have another standard in this family for weighing things, from
that which you and I have been accustomed to go by."

"What is it?"

"I can hardly tell you, in a word. I am not sure that I can tell you at
all. Ask Lois."

"When can I ask her? Do you spend your evenings alone?"

"By no means! Sometimes I go out and read 'Rob Roy' to them. Sometimes
the girls come to me for some deeper reading, or lessons."

"Will they come to-night?"

"Of course not! They would not interfere with your enjoyment of my
society."

"Cannot you ask Lois in, on some pretext?"

"Not without her sister. It is hard on you, Philip! I will do the best
for you I can; but you must watch your opportunity."

Mr. Dillwyn gave it up with a good grace, and devoted himself to Mrs.
Barclay for the rest of the evening. On the other side of the wall
separating the two rooms, meanwhile a different colloquy had taken
place.

"So that is one of your fine people?" said Miss Charity. "Well, I don't
think much of him."

"I have no doubt he would return the compliment," said Madge.

"No," said Lois; "I think he is too polite."

"He was polite to grandmother," returned Charity. "Not to anybody else,
that I saw. But, girls, didn't he like the bread!"

"I thought he liked everything pretty well," said Madge.

"When's he goin'?" Mrs. Armadale asked suddenly.

"Monday, some time," Madge answered. "Mrs. Barclay said 'until Monday.'
What time Monday I don't know."

"Well, we've got things enough to hold out till then," said Charity,
gathering up her dishes. "It's fun, too; I like to set a nice table."

"Why, grandmother?" said Lois. "Don't you like Mrs. Barclay's friend?"

"Well enough, child. I don't want him for none of our'n."

"Why, grandmother?" said Madge.

"His world ain't our world, children, and his hopes ain't our hopes--if
the poor soul has any. 'Seems to me he's all in the dark."

"That's onl