WE MEET MISS M. AND GIP. 133

whatever on my companion, and stepping to
Father’s side, 1 touch his arm and whisper
my difficulty to him, finishing up with, “ Do,
pray, make Mr. Featherstone explain to her—”
which he soon does, in a shout which must
surely be heard at the other end of the gar-
dens.

Old Mrs. Featherstone shakes her head till
the white feather on top of it trembles again
on hearing the rights of the case; but I beg
Mr. Featherstone to tell her that no doubt
we can go to tea with her on Monday, if that
will do as well, and Father will let us, and
finally the good old lady goes smiling and
nodding away on her husband’s arm, appa-
rently quite pacified, her last words as she
moves off being, “ Tell your mother, my dear,
I’m sorry she’s not so well; dear, dear, how
sad it is, to be sure!” and once more thank
goodness we are left in peace again.

We meet the Dickensons and the Raynors
and lots of people after that, and I have to
stand and listen to all the different remarks
on Father's roses.