“If there is nothing undesirable,” said Mrs. Harewood, in her original “what it may lead to” voice.

“Trust Lady Merrifield and Jane Mohun for that!  I am going to take you to call upon Lilias Merrifield.”

“Yea; I shall wish to see the mother of Bernard’s wife.”

Clement, who went with them, explained to his somewhat wondering elder sister that he thought safeguards to Christian education so needful, that he was quite willing that, even in this brief stay, all the aid in their power should be given to the cause at Rockquay.  Nay, as he afterwards added to Wilmet, he was very glad to see how much it interested Geraldine, and that the work for the Church and the congenial friends were rousing her from her listless state of dejection.

Lady Merrifield and Mrs. Harewood were mutually charmed, perhaps all the more because the former was not impassioned about the bazaar.  She said she had been importuned on such subjects wherever she had gone, and had learnt to be passive; but her sister Jane was all eagerness, and her younger young people, as she called the present half of her family, were in the greatest excitement over their first experience of the kind.

“Well is it for all undertakings that there should always be somebody to whom all is new, and who can be zealous and full of delight.”

“By no means surtout point de zele,” returned Geraldine.

“As well say no fermentation,” said Lady Merrifield.

“A dangerous thing,” said Clement.

“But sourness comes without it, or at least deadness,” returned his sister.

Wherewith they returned to talk of their common relations.

It was like a joke to the brother and sisters, that their Bernard should be a responsible husband and father, whereas Lady Merrifield’s notion of him was as a grave, grand-looking man with a splendid beard.

Fergus Merrifield was asked to become the protector of Adrian, whereat he looked sheepish; but after the round of pets had been made he informed his two youngest sisters, Valetta and Primrose, that it was the cheekiest little fellow he had ever seen, who would never know if he was bullied within an inch of his life; not that he (Fergus) should let the fellows do it.

So though until Monday morning Anna was the slave of her brother, doing her best to supply the place of the six devoted sisters at home, the young gentleman ungratefully announced at breakfast—-

“I don’t want gy-arls after me,” with a peculiarly contemptuous twirl at the beginning of the word; “Merrifield is to call for me.”

Anna, who had brought down her hat, looked mortified.

“Never mind, Annie,” said her uncle, “he will know better one of these days.”

“No, I shan’t,” said Adrian, turning round defiantly.  “If she comes bothering after me at dinner-time I shall throw my books at her—- that’s all!  There’s Merrifield,” and he banged out of the room.