Madeleine tells it, and much longer. I think I
spoilt it with my words."

"Like it? It's perfectly charming. I was
thinking it over, Con dear. I should so like to
hear the other end now."

"I always say, 'If you're not tired,'" said
Conny, suggesting.

I repeated the formula, and was indulged
directly.

"The other end is pretty, but very sad.
When the good one came back, he found that
the beautiful young lady—Madeleine didn't
say she was beautiful, but I like to think that
she was—had—gone—so—far—with—the—
bad—one" (the words came very slowly here;
Conny was evidently speaking from memory)—
"that—there—was—no—drawing back."

"What happened then?" I asked; for the
soft voice broke off suddenly.

"I don't know," said Conny, looking
frightened. "I'm afraid she forgot the good
one, and went to live in the big house, among
all the fine things, and that they didn't make
her happy, for Madeleine cries so—at least she
does sometimes—and sometimes she only kisses
me, and sings till I go off to sleep in her arms
such pretty sad songs!"

There were no red flashes from the fire now;
the room was fast filling with shadows.

"Isn't that sad?" whispered Conny, clinging
to me a little, not liking the silence, and
secretly afraid of the dark.

"Very sad."

"It doesn't do to mind it, though," she said,
trying to combine consolation with sense,
"because it's only a story, and not really true, you
know. I don't suppose there ever was a beautiful
young lady with one bad and one good; and
you know there were two ends, and I mean to
believe the happy one. Won't you?"

"Dinner, Jack!" said a beautiful young lady
in a grey silk dress; and I rose at the sound of
her voice.

The dinner was perfection; all my favourite
dishes had been thought of. Never had I seen
Prior to such advantage. He monopolised
Mr. Flutters, and rarely approached the silk
dress. Madeleine and I had it all to ourselves.
And charming as she always was, she was
more than ever so on this evening; happy, I
suppose, in the consciousness of her singular
beauty, set off to so much advantage by the grey
gown, the falling lace of which showed her white
shoulders and pretty round arms uncovered.

"Papa," said Madeleine, when dinner was
half over, taking a rose from a vase and fastening
it into her belt, and looking at it a moment;
"isn't Splutters late?"

Splutters was the family only boy, so called
by a facetious uncle.

"Is Master Tom in, John?"

"Just in, sir," said the butler, grinning a
little; "but he's all over green paint. He
must have knocked up against something, I
think. He's gone up-stairs to change his things,
I was to tell you, miss; and he'll come in to
dessert with Miss Constance."

"Dessert!" said Prior. "I know very little
of Tom, if dessert will do for him." And
Madeleine piled up a plate with solids for
Splutters.

Presently the door of the room opened with
a rush, and the hope of the house walked in,
followed by the second Miss Flutters without
her pinafore.

Conny pushed a chair between me and her
sister; Splutters planted himself beside me, and
stared at Prior. "Late again, Splutters," said
his father. "Take your elbows off the table,
sir, and don't stare."

"Cold!" observed Splutters, discontentedly,
making digs at the solids with his fork. "Cold
greens and lukewarm pie! Who's going to eat
that, I wonder?"

"I'm glad it is cold," returned his father.
"If you can't come in, in time for dinner, you
don't deserve to get any. No, Madeleine, he
shan't have it warmed;" for Madeleine was
looking piteous, and commencing an order to
the butler.

"It'll not hurt him, Miss Flutters," said
Prior. "I've often gone without a dinner
myself before this; it'll do him no harm."

"Oh, won't it?" burst out Splutters,
delighted to have some one to pitch into. "How
do you know? Who are you, I should like to
know, putting in your oar? You think yourself
very grand, I dare say. Nobody else does."

"If you're going to be impertinent, Splutters,
leave the room," said Mr. Flutters.

"He's so precious cheeky," Splutters
explained, "coming bothering here every day, and
ordering me about! I've had about enough
of him. What does he mean by it?
Madeleine don't want his books, nor him neither.
Stevens is worth three of him."

"Be quiet, Tom, this minute," flashed
Madeleine, turning as red as the rose in her belt.

"Tom's a very naughty boy, isn't he, pet?"
asked Mr. Flutters of his youngest little
daughter, who had listened to this edifying
scene with praiseworthy attention, and had
brought her whole intellect to bear upon it.

"Very," returned Conny. "I don't like
Mr. Prior myself, but Splutters shouldn't talk
so."

And Conny swept herself and her sister out
of the room.

All this was damping. We were so very dull,
that Prior, who was easily bored, preferred the
society of the ladies, and absconded to the
drawing-room, whither I should certainly have
followed him had not Mr. Flutters (who had
as much tact as could have been expected
from the father of such a boy as Tom) been so
very anxious to know the exact point to which
stupidity could carry me on the subject of
"Reform," that, without positive incivility, I
found it impossible to leave him. When,
however, it had been clearly proved what a
fool I was, there seemed nothing further for
which to remain, and I left my future father-
in-law to discuss the affairs of the nation with
his son.