“You can ask Coventry to change places.”

Mr. Coventry rose, and the change was effected.

“Well, it is your doing, Coventry.  Now she’ll overlook you.”

“All the better for me, perhaps.  I’m content:  Miss Carden will look at the holly, and I shall look at Miss Carden.”

“Faute de mieux.”

“C’est mechant.”

“And I shall fine you both a bumper of champagne, for going out of the English language.”

“I shall take my punishment like a man.”

“Then take mine as well.  Champagne with me means frenzy.”

But, in the midst of the easy banter and jocose airy nothings of the modern dining-room, an object attracted Grace’s eye.  It was a picture, with its face turned to the wall, and some large letters on the back of the canvas.

This excited Grace’s curiosity directly, and, whenever she could, without being observed, she peeped, and tried to read the inscription; but, what with Mr. Raby’s head, and a monster candle that stood before it, she could not decipher it unobserved.  She was inclined to ask Mr. Raby; but she was very quick, and, observing that the other portraits were of his family, she suspected at once that the original of this picture had offended her host, and that it would be in bad taste, and might be offensive, to question him.  Still the subject took possession of her.

At about eight o’clock a servant announced candles in the drawing-room.

Upon this Mr. Raby rose, and, without giving her any option on the matter, handed her to the door with obsolete deference.

In the drawing-room she found a harpsichord, a spinet, and a piano, all tuned expressly for her.  This amused her, as she had never seen either of the two older instruments in her life.  She played on them all three.

Mr. Raby had the doors thrown open to hear her.

She played some pretty little things from Mendelssohn, Spohr, and
Schubert.

The gentlemen smoked and praised.

Then she found an old music-book, and played Hamlet’s overture to Otho, and the minuet.

The gentlemen left off praising directly, and came silently into the room to hear the immortal melodist.  But this is the rule in music; the lips praise the delicate gelatinous, the heart beats in silence at the mighty melodious.

Tea and coffee came directly afterward, and ere they were disposed of, a servant announced “The Wassailers.”

“Well, let them come in,” said Mr. Raby.

The school-children and young people of the village trooped in, and made their obeisances, and sang the Christmas Carol—­

     “God rest you, merry gentlemen,
     Let nothing you dismay.”

Then one of the party produced an image of the Virgin and Child, and another offered comfits in a box; a third presented the wassail-cup, into which Raby immediately poured some silver, and Coventry followed his example.  Grace fumbled for her purse, and, when she had found it, began to fumble in it for her silver.