“Perhaps the delusion has kept her unconscious, and made her the sweeter.  But the question is, whether this ought to go on without letting your people know?”

“I suppose they would have no objection?” said John.  “There’s no harm in Evelyn, and he shows his sense by running after Jock.  He hasn’t got the family health either.  I’d rather have him than an old stick like Jessie’s General.”

“Yes, if all were settled, I believe your mother would be very well pleased.  The question is, whether it is using her fairly not to let her know in the meantime?”

“Well, what is the code among you parents and guardians?”

“I don’t know that there is any, but I think that though the crisis might be pleasing enough, yet if your mother found out what was going on, she might be vexed at not having been informed.”

John considered a moment, and then proposed that if things looked “like it” at the end of the week, he should go down on Saturday and give a hint of preparation to his father, letting him understand the merits of the case.  However, in the existing state of affairs, a week was a long time, and that very Sunday brought the crisis.

The recollection of former London Sundays, of Mary Ogilvie’s quiet protests, and of the effect on her two eldest children, had strengthened Mrs. Brownlow’s resolution to make it impossible to fill the afternoon with aimless visiting and gossiping; and plenty of other occupations had sprung up.

Thus on this particular afternoon she and Barbara were with their Girls’ Friendly Society Classes, of which Babie took the clever one, and she the stupid.  Armine was reading with Percy Stagg, and a party of School Board pupil-teachers, whom that youth had brought him, as very anxious for the religious instruction they knew not how to obtain.  Jock had taken the Friar’s Bible Class of young men, and Allen had, as a great favour, undertaken to sit with Dr. and Mrs. Lucas till he could look in on them.  So that Esther and Lina were the sole occupants of the drawing-room when Captain Evelyn rang at the door, knowing very well that he was only permitted up stairs an hour later in time for a cup of tea before evensong.  He did look into Allen’s sitting-room as a matter of form, but finding it empty, and hearing a buzz of voices elsewhere, he took licence to go upstairs, and there he found Esther telling her little sister such histories of Arundel Society engravings as she could comprehend.

Lina sprang to him at once; Esther coloured, and began to account for the rest of the family.  “I hear,” said Cecil, as low tones came through the closed doors of the back drawing-room, “they work as hard here as my sister does!”

“I think my aunt has almost done,” said Essie, with a shy doubt whether she ought to stay.  “Come, Lina, I must get you ready for tea.”

“No, no,” said Cecil, “don’t go!  You need not be as much afraid of me as that first time I walked in, and thought I had got into a strange house.”