Going home at night Richard would laugh at the faces made about his marriage.  “We’ll carry the day, Rip, my Lucy and I! or I’ll do it alone—­what there is to do.”  He slightly adverted to a natural want of courage in women, which Ripton took to indicate that his Beauty was deficient in that quality.  Up leapt the Old Dog; “I’m sure there never was a braver creature upon earth, Richard!  She’s as brave as she’s lovely, I’ll swear she is!  Look how she behaved that day!  How her voice sounded!  She was trembling...  Brave?  She’d follow you into battle, Richard!”

And Richard rejoined:  “Talk on, dear old Rip!  She’s my darling love, whatever she is!  And she is gloriously lovely.  No eyes are like hers.  I’ll go down to-morrow morning the first thing.”

Ripton only wondered the husband of such a treasure could remain apart from it.  So thought Richard for a space.

“But if I go, Rip,” he said despondently, “if I go for a day even I shall have undone all my work with my father.  She says it herself—­you saw it in her last letter.”

“Yes,” Ripton assented, and the words “Please remember me to dear Mr. Thompson,” fluttered about the Old Dog’s heart.

It came to pass that Mrs. Berry, having certain business that led her through Kensington Gardens, spied a figure that she had once dandled in long clothes, and helped make a man of, if ever woman did.  He was walking under the trees beside a lady, talking to her, not indifferently.  The gentleman was her bridegroom and her babe.  “I know his back,” said Mrs. Berry, as if she had branded a mark on it in infancy.  But the lady was not her bride.  Mrs. Berry diverged from the path, and got before them on the left flank; she stared, retreated, and came round upon the right.  There was that in the lady’s face which Mrs. Berry did not like.  Her innermost question was, why he was not walking with his own wife?  She stopped in front of them.  They broke, and passed about her.  The lady made a laughing remark to him, whereat he turned to look, and Mrs. Berry bobbed.  She had to bob a second time, and then he remembered the worthy creature, and hailed her Penelope, shaking her hand so that he put her in countenance again.  Mrs. Berry was extremely agitated.  He dismissed her, promising to call upon her in the evening.  She heard the lady slip out something from a side of her lip, and they both laughed as she toddled off to a sheltering tree to wipe a corner of each eye.  “I don’t like the looks of that woman,” she said, and repeated it resolutely.

“Why doesn’t he walk arm-in-arm with her?” was her neat inquiry.  “Where’s his wife?” succeeded it.  After many interrogations of the sort, she arrived at naming the lady a bold-faced thing; adding subsequently, brazen.  The lady had apparently shown Mrs. Berry that she wished to get rid of her, and had checked the outpouring of her emotions on the breast of her babe.  “I know a lady when I see one,” said Mrs. Berry.  “I haven’t lived with ’em for nothing; and if she’s a lady bred and born, I wasn’t married in the church alive.”