“He gave them no direct answer, ma’am.  He will consider of it between now and to-morrow morning.”

“Consider of it!” shrieked she.  “Why, he’d never, never be such a flat as to comply.  He go into parliament!  What next?”

“Why should he not, Miss Corny?  I’m sure I should be proud to see him there.”

Miss Corny gave a sniff.  “You are proud of things more odd than even John Dill.  Remember that fine shirt front!  What has become of it?  Is it laid up in lavender?”

“Not exactly in lavender, Miss Corny.  It lies in the drawer; for I have never liked to put it on since, after what you said.”

“Why don’t you sell it at half-price, and buy a couple of good useful ones with the money?” returned she, tartly.  “Better that than keep the foppish thing as a witness of your folly.  Perhaps he’ll be buying embroidered fronts next, if he goes into that idle, do-nothing House of Commons.  I’d rather enter myself for six months at the treadmill.”

“Oh, Miss Corny!  I don’t think you have well considered it.  It’s a great honor, and worthy of him.  He will be elevated above us all, as it were, and he deserves to be.”

“Elevate him on a weathercock!” raged Miss Corny.  “There, you may go.  I’ve heard quite enough.”

Brushing past the old gentleman, leaving him to depart or not, as he might please, Miss Carlyle strode upstairs, flung on her shawl and bonnet, and strode down again.  Her servant looked considerably surprised, and addressed her as she crossed the hall.

“Your dinner, ma’am?” he ventured to say.

“What’s my dinner to you?” returned Miss Corny, in her wrath.  “You have had yours.”

Away she strode.  And thus it happened that she was at East Lynne almost as soon as Mr. Carlyle.

“Where’s Archibald?” began she, without ceremony, the moment she saw Barbara.

“He is here.  Is anything the matter?”

Mr. Carlyle, hearing the voice, came out and she pounced upon him with her tongue.

“What’s this about your becoming the new member for West Lynne?”

“West Lynne wishes it,” said Mr. Carlyle.  “Sit down, Cornelia.”

“Sit down yourself,” retorted she, keeping on her feet.  “I want my question answered. Of course you will decline?”

“On the contrary, I have made up my mind to accept.”

Miss Corny untied the strings of her bonnet, and flung them behind her.

“Have you counted the cost?” she asked, and there was something quite sepulchral in her solemn tone.

“I have given it consideration, Cornelia; both as regards money and time.  The expenses are not worth naming, should there be no opposition.  And if there is any—­”

“Ay!” groaned Miss Corny.  “If there is?”

“Well?  I am not without a few hundred to spare for the playing,” he said, turning upon her the good-humored light of his fine countenance.