Freda felt her blood creep at that word ‘Grandpapa,’ and also felt the colonel’s glance.  He seemed to take a pleasure in watching every expression of her countenance, and it did, unfortunately, always convey her feelings to the watcher.

Freda had never passed so uncomfortable a dinner since the day when the present Mrs Vaughan came of age.  Probably she was the only one of the party who was conscious of Colonel Vaughan’s changed manner and temper, because it was new to her, and she could scarcely believe him to be himself.  Her father was wrapped up in his boy—­his wife’s attention was divided between him and the other children, and Mrs Vaughan smiled and lisped on all by turns.

Freda thought of old times, when her father and herself were so happy together; and then she thought of the last Christmas day in London, when Mr and Mrs Jones, Rowland, and herself dined late off a Glanyravon Park turkey, having first feasted as many poor people as the kitchen would hold, on geese from Glanyravon Farm.  Certainly the comparison with her present companions was ‘odious’ to her.

Freda scarcely knew which was worst—­the riotous, untameable spirits of Harold, who did and said what he liked, unchecked either by father or mother, or the cowed and altered manner of the other children in the presence of their father; they, too, had been noisy enough before he arrived.

‘It was very good of you to come to-day, Gwynne,’ said Lady Mary; ’I scarcely expected you, knowing how you dislike this frosty weather.’

’Freda is attraction enough to draw off the frost, though she has become so much better than her neighbours.  Wilhelmina, my dear, why do you let Minnie stuff her mouth so full of orange?  The child will choke.’

The dinner came to an end at last, and the children went to bed.  Freda played and sung some sacred music at Colonel Vaughan’s request, and he complimented her on her improvement, and said he wished his wife played and sung as well, because music was such a resource in a dull country place.

’I suppose you have practised a great deal since you have been in London?’ he said.

’Mrs Jones and I play and sing whenever we have time, and I have had some lessons,’ replied Freda.  ’Besides, one hears all the first musicians and singers, and they teach one.’

’Did you see much of that young parson, Prothero?  I remember he was somewhere in your neighbourhood,’ asked the colonel.

Freda was sure this question was a feeler, and she answered carelessly,—­

‘Yes, naturally.  He is Mr Jones’ brother curate.’

’Now confess, you didn’t like those people, and that sort of life?  You must have been ennuyee from morning to night.’

‘On the contrary, the days were not half long enough.’

‘Freda!’ exclaimed Mrs Vaughan, ’I get tho tired, and tho doth the colonel, before half the evening ith over.’

‘Some one else seems in the same condition,’ said Freda.  ’Papa is fast asleep.’