“Oh, it’s you two again, is it?” said Miss Jerrold, in a tone of voice which might have been borrowed from her brother, as Stratton and Guest were shown up into her pretty little drawing room, where she sat ready to preside over her china tea tray with its quaint Sèvres cups and saucers and parcel gilt apostle spoons, while a tall stand was on her left with its bronze kettle humming and whispering, and uttering a pleasant coo now and then, as it felt the warm kisses of the spirit lamp.

Stratton’s brows contracted and a look of resentment darted from his eyes as he stopped short, but Guest laughed and said airily:

“Yes; it is your humble servant once again.”

“Well, and what do you want?”

“Hear that, Stratton?” said Guest. “A lady sends you her cards, ‘At home, Thursday, four to six;’ we go to the expense of new lavender kids—no, come what may, I will be truthful, mine are only freshly cleaned—and new hats—no, truth shall prevail! a gloss over from the hatter’s iron—drag ourselves all this way west to pay our devoirs—to drink tea out of thimbles, and eat slices of butter thinly sprinkled with bread crumbs, and the lady says, ‘What do you want?’”

“Of course I do. There, sit down, both of you, and, Malcolm Stratton, don’t put on that wicked, melodramatic frown; it does not become you. You’re a pair of impostors. Think I’m blind? You don’t come here to call upon a poor old woman like—Quick, Percy, my dear boy! Blow it out; we shall have the room in a blaze.”

“No, no, be cool,” said Guest, and he made for the spirit kettle, whose lamp had become overheated, and was sending up quite a volume of flame. But Stratton was nearer, and taking out his handkerchief, he turned it into a pad, dabbed it on the lamp, and the light was smothered.

“Oh, dear me!” sighed Miss Jerrold in tones full of relief, “now, that was very clever. I do like presence of mind. Sugar, Mr Stratton?”

He bowed stiffly.

“Haven’t burned yourself, have you, my dear?”

“Oh, no; my glove protected my hand,” said Stratton, looking at the stiff, formal, handsome old body; half amused, half pleased, by the maternal “my dear.”

“Ah, now you’re smiling at me,” she said quickly. “Sugar, Percy?”

“A good deal, please, to take the taste of your harsh words out of my mouth.”

“There, then—two lumps. I know you take sugar, Malcolm Stratton, and cream. Well, my dear, I’m obliged to speak out; for you really are a pair of impostors, and I cannot have my house made a meeting place for would-be lovers. There—there—there, Mr Stratton, don’t pray turn like that, and look as if you were going to rush away. Mine is a very delicate position, and I know my brother will be taking me to task some day about all this. Now, do take my advice; and give it all up—Percy Guest, if you break that cup I’ll never forgive you. It cannot be matched.”

“Would you advise us to go and try our fortunes in Australia, Miss Jerrold?” said Guest quietly, as he replaced the tiny cup in the middle of its saucer, after nearly sending it on the carpet.

“No, I would not, you stupid boy. There, I don’t mean you at all. I dare say Edie will be silly enough to let you wheedle her into matrimony some day—a goose.”

Guest touched his breast.

“You? No,” said the lady sharply, “Edie. But you two are nobodies. I was thinking about Mr Stratton, here. Now, don’t you think, my dear, you had better give it all up?”

She held out her hand with a look of gentle sympathy to him, and he caught it and kissed it.

“Do you think I ever could?” he said, in a low voice while Guest began to display great interest in the painting of the teacup.

“No, I suppose not,” said Miss Jerrold, with a sigh. “It’s very sad, you see, poor girl, she’s going through a curious morbid phase which has completely changed her. All that time she had her ideas that it was her duty to wait and suffer; and I do honestly believe that if that man had behaved himself, been released on a ticket of—ticket of—what do they call those tickets, Percy?”

“Leave,” said the young barrister gravely.

“Yes; of course—she would have considered it her duty to go to him if he had come to claim her; and then died of misery and despair in a month.”

“Had we not better change the conversation, Miss Jerrold?” said Stratton quietly.

“Yes, of course. I’m a very stupid old woman, I suppose; but Myra does worry me a great deal. One moment, and I’ve done, and I suppose things must take their course. But all this treating herself as a widow and—there—there—there—I have done. I suppose I need not tell you they are coming here to-day?”

“I did hope to see Miss—”

“Hush! Don’t call her that, my dear. It must be Mrs Barron, or she will consider herself insulted. Ah, she’s a strange girl, Mr Stratton, but we can’t help liking her all the same, can we?”

She held out her hand to him with a pleasant smile and a nod; and Guest saw his friend’s eyes brighten, and then noted his passionate, eager look, as there was a ring and knock.

But the ladies who came up were strangers; and it was not until quite the last that Myra and her cousin arrived, the former in black, and with a calm, resigned look in her pale face, which had grown very thoughtful and dreamy during the six months which had elapsed since that morning at breakfast, when the news came of James Dale’s tragic end.

And now her eyes softened as she greeted Stratton, and she sat talking to him in a quiet, subdued way, till the gentlemen took their leave, and made their way back to Benchers’ Inn.

Hardly a word was spoken till they were in Stratton’s room, w............