The snowstorm still raged.  To spare their own horses, the Liversedges had come in a cab, and at half-past five the same vehicle returned to take them home..  Lilian was sorry to see them go.

“Where are all your apprehensions now?” cried Denzil, coming back to her from the hall.  “It’s over, you see.  Not another minute’s uneasiness need you have!”

“They were kindness itself.  I like them very much.”

“As I knew and said you would.  Now, no more chalky faces and frightened looks!  Be jolly, and forget everything.  Let us try your piano.”

“Your sister was telling me about Mrs. Wade.  Is she one of the people you would like me to be friends with?”

“Oh yes!” he answered, laughing, “Mrs. Wade will interest you, no doubt.  Make a friend of her by all means.  Did Mary whisper mysterious warnings?”

“Anything but that; she spoke very favourably.”

“Indeed!

“And she said Mrs. Wade seemed to have taken a liking to her lately.”

“Oh!  How’s that, I wonder?  She goes about seeking whom she may secure for the women’s-vote movement; I suppose it’s Molly’s turn to be attacked Oh, we shall have many a lively half-hour when Mrs. Wade calls!”

“What is her husband?”

“Husband!  She’s a widow.  I never thought of such a person as Mr. Wade, to this moment.  To be sure, he must have existed.  Perhaps she will confide in you, and then——­By-the-bye, is it right for women to tell their husbands what they learn from female friends?”

He asked it jokingly, but Lilian seemed to reflect in earnest.

“I’m not sure”——­

“Oh, you lily of the valley!” he cried, interrupting her.  “Do cultivate a sense of humour.  Don’t take things with such desperate seriousness!  Come and try your instrument.  It ought to be a good one, if price-lists mean anything.”

The next morning was clear and cold.  Assuredly there would be good skating, and the prospect of this enjoyment seemed to engross Denzil’s thoughts.  After breakfast he barely glanced at the newspapers, then leaving Lilian to enter upon her domestic rule, set forth for an examination of the localities which offered scope to Polterham skaters.  Such youthful zeal proved his thorough harmony with the English spirit; it promised far more for his success as a politician than if he had spent the morning over blue-books and statistical treatises.

If only the snow were cleared away, the best skating near at hand was on a piece of water near the road to Rickstead.  The origin of this pond or lakelet had caused discussion among local antiquaries; for tradition said that it occupied the site of a meadow which many years ago mysteriously sank, owing perhaps to the unsuspected existence of an ancient mine.  It connected with a little tributary of the River Bale, and was believed to be very deep, especially at one point, where the tree-shadowed bank overhung the water at a height of some ten feet.  The way