The morrow came, and at the proper hour the trio repaired to the City Hall and mounted its high white steps.

“Don’t you feel afraid, Lizzie, to be coming here?” said her cousin.  “I do.”

“Afraid of what, Mrs. Haye?” inquired their attendant.

“O I don’t know, —­ it looks so; —­ it makes me think of prisoners and judges and all such awful things!”

Mr. Satterthwaite laughed, and stole a glance beyond Mrs. Haye to see what the other lady was thinking of.  But Elizabeth said nothing and looked nothing; she marched on like an automaton beside her two companions, through the great halls, one after another, till the room was reached and they had secured their seats.  Then certainly no one who had looked at her face would have taken it for an automaton.  Though she was as still as a piece of machine-work, except the face.  Rose was in a fidget of business, and the tip of her bonnet’s white feather executed all manner of arcs and curves in the air, within imminent distance of Mr. Satterthwaite’s face.

“Who’s who? —­ and where’s anybody, Mr. Satterthwaite,” she inquired.

“That’s the Chancellor, sitting up there at the end, do you see? —­ Sitting alone, and leaning back in his chair.”

“That?” said Rose.  “I see.  Is that Chancellor Justice?  A fine-looking man, very, isn’t he?”

“Well —­ I suppose he is,” said Mr. Satterthwaite.  “He’s a strong man.”

“Strong?” said Rose; —­ “is he?  Lizzie! —­ isn’t Chancellor Justice a fine-looking man?”

“Fine-looking?” —­ said Elizabeth, bringing her eyes in the Chancellor’s direction.  “No, I should think not.”

“Is there anybody that is fine-looking here?” whispered Rose in Elizabeth’s bonnet.

“Our tastes are so different, it is impossible for one to tell what will please the other,” replied Elizabeth coolly.

“Where’s Mr. Landholm, Mr. Satterthwaite?”

“Winthrop? —­ He is down there —­ don’t you see him?”

“‘Down there?’” said Rose, —­ “There are a great many people down there —­”

“There’s Mr. Herder shaking hands with him now —­”

“Mr. Herder? —­ Lizzie, do you see them?”

“Who?”

“Winthrop Landholm and Mr. Herder.”

“Yes.”

“Where are they?”

“Hush —­”

For just then proceedings began, and Rose’s tongue for a few minutes gave way in favour of her ears.  And by the time she had found out that she could not make anything of what was going on, Mr. Herder had found his way to their side.

“Miss Elisabet’!” he said, —­ “and Mistress Haye! what has made you to come here to-day?”

“Mr. Satterthwaite wanted us to hear your favourite Mr. Landholm,” said Rose, —­ “so I came.  Lizzie didn’t come for that.”

Elizabeth shook hands with her friend smilingly, but said never a word as to why she was there.

“Winthrop is good to hear,” said Mr. Herder, “when you can understand him.  He knows how to speak.  I can understand him —­ but I cannot understand Mr. Brick —­ I cannot make nozing of him when he speaks.”