‘Can you cook, ma’am?’ asked Old Tom.

‘All but that,’ said the Countess, with a smile of sweet meaning.

‘Ha! then you won’t suit me as well as your mother.’

‘Take care you do not excite my emulation,’ she returned, graciously, albeit disgusted at his tone.

To Harriet, Old Tom had merely nodded.  There he sat, in the arm-chair, sucking the liquor, with the glimpse of a sour chuckle on his cheeks.  Now and then, during the evening, he rubbed his hands sharply, but spoke little.  The unbending Harriet did not conceal her disdain of him.  When he ventured to allude to the bankruptcy, she cut him short.

’Pray, excuse me—­I am unacquainted with affairs of business—­I cannot even understand my husband.’

‘Lord bless my soul!’ Old Tom exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

Caroline had informed her sisters up-stairs that their mother was ignorant of Evan’s change of fortune, and that Evan desired her to continue so for the present.  Caroline appeared to be pained by the subject, and was glad when Louisa sounded his mysterious behaviour by saying: 

‘Evan has a native love of concealment—­he must be humoured.’

At the supper, Mr. Raikes made his bow.  He was modest and reserved.  It was known that this young gentleman acted as shopman there.  With a tenderness for his position worthy of all respect, the Countess spared his feelings by totally ignoring his presence; whereat he, unaccustomed to such great-minded treatment, retired to bed, a hater of his kind.  Harriet and Caroline went next.  The Countess said she would wait up for Evan, but hearing that his hours of return were about the chimes of matins, she cried exultingly:  ‘Darling Papa all over!’ and departed likewise.  Mrs. Mel, when she had mixed Old Tom’s third glass, wished the brothers good night, and they were left to exchange what sentiments they thought proper for the occasion.  The Countess had certainly, disappointed Old Tom’s farce, in a measure; and he expressed himself puzzled by her.  ‘You ain’t the only one,’ said his brother.  Andrew, with some effort, held his tongue concerning the news of Evan—­his fortune and his folly, till he could talk to the youth in person.

All took their seats at the early breakfast next morning.

‘Has Evan not come—­home yet?’ was the Countess’s first question.

Mrs. Mel replied, ‘No.’

‘Do you know where he has gone, dear Mama?’

‘He chooses his own way.’

‘And you fear that it leads somewhere?’ added the Countess.

‘I fear that it leads to knocking up the horse he rides.’

’The horse, Mama!  He is out on a horse all night!  But don’t you see, dear old pet! his morals, at least, are safe on horseback.’

‘The horse has to be paid for, Louisa,’ said her mother, sternly; and then, for she had a lesson to read to the guests of her son, ’Ready money doesn’t come by joking.  What will the creditors think?  If he intends to be honest in earnest, he must give up four-feet mouths.’