“And she wouldn’t take it,” said Mrs Dale.

“I don’t think she would.  But if she did, I’m sure she would grumble because it wasn’t double the amount.  And if Mr Boyce had gone home with her, she would have grumbled because he walked too fast.”

“She is very old,” said Bell, again.

“But, nevertheless, she ought to know better than to speak disparagingly of me to my servants.  She should have more respect for herself.”  And the squire showed by the tone of his voice that he thought very much about it.

It was very long and very dull that Christmas evening, making Bernard feel strongly that he would be very foolish to give up his profession, and tie himself down to a life at Allington.  Women are more accustomed than men to long, dull, unemployed hours; and, therefore, Mrs Dale and her daughters bore the tedium courageously.  While he yawned, stretched himself, and went in and out of the room, they sat demurely, listening as the squire laid down the law on small matters, and contradicting him occasionally when the spirit of either of them prompted her specially to do so.  “Of course you know much better than I do,” he would say.  “Not at all,” Mrs Dale would answer.  “I don’t pretend to know anything about it.  But—­” So the evening wore itself away; and when the squire was left alone at half-past nine, he did not feel that the day had passed badly with him.  That was his style of life, and he expected no more from it than he got.  He did not look to find things very pleasant, and, if not happy, he was, at any rate, contented.

“Only think of Johnny Eames being at Guestwick Manor!” said Bell, as they were going home.

“I don’t see why he shouldn’t be there,” said Lily.  “I would rather it should be he than I, because Lady Julia is so grumpy.”

“But asking your Uncle Christopher especially to meet him!” said Mrs Dale.  “There must be some reason for it.”  Then Lily felt the soreness come upon her again, and spoke no further upon the subject.

We all know that there was a special reason, and that Lily’s soreness was not false in its mysterious forebodings.  Eames, on the evening after his dinner at Pawkins’s, had seen the earl, and explained to him that he could not leave town till the Saturday evening; but that he could remain over the Tuesday.  He must be at his office by twelve on Wednesday, and could manage to do that by an early train from Guestwick.

“Very well, Johnny,” said the earl, talking to his young friend with the bedroom candle in his hand, as he was going up to dress.  “Then I’ll tell you what; I’ve been thinking of it.  I’ll ask Dale to come over to dinner on Tuesday; and if he’ll come, I’ll explain the whole matter to him myself.  He’s a man of business, and he’ll understand.  If he won’t come, why then you must go over to Allington, and find him, if you can, on the Tuesday morning; or I’ll go to him myself, which will be better.  You mustn’t keep me now, as I am ever so much too late.”