only a question of time. Have patience
yet awhile. My daughter, Sir John Gale.
My ward, Miss Desmond. Paul, be so
good as to wheel your master's chair
little more this way."

The baronet took the hand which
Veronica had half offered, half withheld, and
bowed low.

Maud saluted him by a smile and a bend
of the head, which he returned by a still
lower bow than the first.

"I trust," said Sir John, when he was
seated, "that Mr. Levincourt has been so
very kind as to explain to you how
impossible I find it to express in any adequate
way my sense of your great goodness and
hospitality."

His glance, as he spoke, included the
two young ladies.

"We are very glad to see you so much
better," said Maud.

"And the truth is, we have done nothing
at all for you, Sir John; Paul would not
let us," added Veronica.

"That man of yours is an excellent
fellow," said the vicar, when Paul had left
the room. "There are no such servants to
be had in England now-a-days. Veronica,
give Sir John some tea, and then ring for
another large cup for me. I cannot be
persuaded to drink my tea out of a thing
no bigger than an egg-shell," he added,
turning to his guest.

"Not to mention, papa, that these tiny
tea-cups are quite old-fashioned now!"
exclaimed Veronica, with a bright, saucy
smile, which became her infinitely.

"Are they? How do you know? We
live here, Sir John, in the most countrified
of country parsonages, and yet—. But,
upon my honour, I believe that if you were
to stick a woman on the top of the column
of St. Simeon Stylites, she would
nevertheless contrive in some mysterious way to
know what was 'in fashion' and what
wasn't."

"Perhaps it is a sixth sense implanted
in us by nature, Uncle Charles," said
Maud, demurely. "You know the inferior
animals have these mysterious instincts."

Sir John's eyes had hitherto been
contemplating the glossy coils of Veronica's
ebon hair, as she bent her head over the
tea equipage. Now, he turned and regarded
Maud more attentively than he yet had
done.

"I beg pardon," said he to the vicar. "I
thought that when you did me the honour
to present me to Miss—Miss Dermott—you
called her your ward?"

"Yes; and so I am," answered Maud,
taking no notice of the mispronunciation
of her name. "I have no right whatever
to call Mr. Levincourt 'Uncle Charles,' Sir
John. But I have been let to do so ever
since I came here as a very small child. I
began by calling him 'Zio,' as Mrs. Levincourt
taught me, in Italian fashion. But
very soon my British tongue translated the
appellation, and my guardian has been
'Uncle Charles' ever since."

Sir John did not appear profoundly
interested in this explanation, although he
listened with polite attention while Maud
spoke.

Presently he and the vicar began
discoursing of foreign travel and foreign places,
and the girls listened almost in silence.

"Ah!" sighed the vicar, plaintively.
"Bel cielo d'ltalia! I know not what
price I would not pay for another glimpse
of that intense living blue, after the fogs
and clouds of Daneshire."

Mr. Levincourt had succeeded in
persuading himself that the three years he had
spent abroad had been years of unmixed
enjoyment.

"I tell you what it is, Mr. Levincourt,"
said Sir John, passing his bony white hand
over his moustache; "Italy is not the
pleasant residence for foreigners that it must
have been when you first knew it. What
with their unionism, and constitutionalism,
and liberalism, they've sent the whole thing
to the—; they've spoilt the society
altogether," concluded the baronet, discreetly
changing the form of his phrase.

"Really?"

"Well, in fifty ways, things are altered
for the worse, even in my experience of
Italy, which dates now, at intervals, some
twelve or fourteen years back. For one
thing, that British Moloch, Mrs. Grundy,
has begun to be set up there."

Veronica raised her eyes and uttered a
little exclamation expressive of disgust.

"I should not think that mattered very
much," said Maud, half aloud.

Sir John caught the impulsively-uttered
words, and replied at once. "Not matter?
Ah, Jeunesse! I assure you, my dear young
lady, that it matters a great deal. Mrs.
Grundy is a very terrible and hideous old
idol indeed. She can bully you, and worry
you, and rap you on the head with her
twopenny wooden staff."

Maud coloured high at being thus
addressed, but she answered bravely. "Still
I cannot see that she has power to hurt
good people. I thought it was only the