Mrs. Frederic Liddell returned from Brighton in a very thoughtful mood.  She said she had had a “heavenly visit.”  Such nice weather—­such a contrast to dirty, dreary, depressing London!  She had met several old acquaintances, they had had company every night, and had she only had a third evening dress her bliss would have been complete.  As it was, a slight sense of inferiority had taken the keen edge off her joy.  “At any rate, the men didn’t seem to think there was much amiss with me.  Sir Ralph Brereton and Colonel Ormonde were really quite troublesome.  I do not much like Sir Ralph.  I never know if he is laughing at me or not, though I am sure I do not think there is anything to laugh at in me.  Colonel Ormonde is so kind and sensible!  Do you know, Mrs. Liddell, he says I ought to see Mr. Newton myself, to look after the interests of my darling boys, and—­and try to ascertain the true state of affairs.  That is what Colonel Ormonde says, and I suppose you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Liddell?” she ended, in a rather supplicating tone; for she was just a little in awe of her mother-in-law, kind and indulgent though she was.

“Go and see Mr. Newton by all means, Ada, if you feel it would be any satisfaction to you; but until the right time comes it will be very useless to make any inquiries.  We leave it all to Mr. Newton.”

“Oh, you and Katherine are so cold and immovable; you are not a bit like me.  I am all sensitiveness and impulse.  Well, if it is not raining cats and dogs I will go into that awful City and see Mr. Newton to-morrow.”

“Would it not be well to make an appointment?”

“Oh dear no!  I will take my chance; I would not write.  Katie dear, I have torn all the flounce off my black and white dinner dress; you are so much more clever with your needle than I am, would you sew it on for me to-morrow?”

“No, I cannot, Ada—­not to-morrow at least.  I am busy altering mother’s winter cloak, and she has nothing warm to put on until it is finished.  I will show you how to arrange the flounce, and you will soon do it yourself if you try.”

“Very well”—­rather sulkily.  “I am sure I was intended to be a rich man’s wife, I am so helpless.”

“And I am sure I was born under ‘a three-half-penny constellation,’ as L. E. L. said, for I rather like helping myself,” returned Katherine, laughing.  “Only I should like to have a little exterior help besides.”

“Do you know, Katherine, I am afraid you are very proud.  I believe you think yourself the cleverest girl in the world.”

“I should be much happier if I did,” said Katherine, good-humoredly.  “Don’t be a goose, Ada; let my disposition alone.  I am afraid it is too decidedly formed to be altered.”

“Colonel Ormonde was asking for you,” resumed Mrs. Frederic, fearing she had allowed her temper too much play.  “He is quite an admirer of yours.”

“I am much obliged to him.  Would you like to come to the theatre to-night?  Mr. and Mrs. Wray have a box at the Adelphi, and have offered us two places.  My mother thought you might like to go.”