A of glass and plate glittered on the dining-table of Mr. Dare. It was six o'clock, and they had just sat down. Mrs. Dare, in a light gauze dress and blonde head-dress, sat at the head of the table. There was a large family of them; four sons and four daughters; and all were present; also Miss Benyon, the governess. Anthony and Herbert sat on either side Mrs. Dare; Adelaide and Julia, the daughters, near their father; the four other children, Cyril and George, Rosa and Minny, were between them.  
Mr. Dare was the . In due course, a plate, followed by the sauce, was carried to Anthony.
 
"What's this! Melted butter! Where's the sauce?"
 
"There is no lobster sauce to-day," said Mrs. Dare. "We sent late, and the were all gone. There was a small supply. Joseph, take the to Mr. Anthony."
 
Mr. Anthony jerked the anchovy sauce off the salver, dashed some on to his plate, and jerked the bottle back again. Not with a very good grace: his palate was a dainty one. Indeed, it was a family complaint.
 
"I wouldn't give a for salmon without lobster sauce," he cried. "I hope you won't send late again."
 
"It was the cook's fault," said Mrs. Dare. "She did not understand my orders."
 
"Deaf old creature!" exclaimed Anthony.
 
"Anthony, there's cucumber," said Julia, looking down the table at her brother. "Ann, take the cucumber to Mr. Anthony."
 
"You know I never eat cucumber with salmon," Anthony, in reply. And it was not graciously spoken, for the offer had been by good-nature.
 
A pause ensued. It was at length broken by Mrs. Dare.
 
"Herbert, are you growing more reconciled to office-work?"
 
"No; and never shall," returned Herbert. "From ten till five is an awful upon one's time; it's as bad as school."
 
Mr. Dare looked up from his plate. "You might have been put to a profession that would occupy a great deal more time than that, Herbert. What calls have you upon your time, pray, that it is so valuable? Will you take some more fish?"
 
"Well, I don't know. I think I will. It is good to-day; very good with the cucumber, that Anthony despises."
 
Ann took his plate up to Mr. Dare.
 
"Anthony," said that gentleman, as he helped the salmon, "where were you this afternoon? You were away from the office altogether, after two o'clock."
 
"Out with Hawkesley," shortly replied Anthony.
 
"Yes; it is all very well to say, 'Out with Hawkesley,' but the office suffers. I wish you young men were not quite so fond of taking your pleasure."
 
"A little more fish, sir?" asked Joseph of Anthony.
 
"Not if I know it."
 
The second course came in. A quarter of lamb, asparagus and other vegetables. Herbert looked cross. He had recently taken a dislike to lamb, or fancied he had done so.
 
"Of course there's something coming for me!" he said.
 
"Oh, of course," said Mrs. Dare. "Cook knows you don't like lamb."
 
Nothing, however, came in. Ann was sent to inquire the reason of the neglect. The cook had been unable to cutlet, and Master Herbert had said if she ever sent him up a mutton-chop again he should throw it at her head. Such was the message brought back.
 
"What an old story-teller she must be to say she could not get veal cutlet!" exclaimed Herbert. "I hate mutton and lamb, and I am not going to eat either one or the other."
 
"I heard the butcher say this morning that he had no veal, Master Herbert," interposed Ann. "This hot weather they don't kill much meat."
 
"Why have you taken this dislike to lamb, Herbert?" asked Mr. Dare. "You have eaten it all the season."
 
"That's just it," answered Herbert. "I have eaten so much of it that I am sick of it."
 
"Never mind, Herbert," said his mother. "There's a cherry coming and a delicious lemon pudding. I don't think you can be so very hungry; you went twice to salmon."
 
Herbert was not in a good humour. All the Dares had been , and of course it bore its fruits. He sat drumming with his silver fork upon the table, to try a little asparagus, and a great deal of both pie and pudding. Cheese, salad, and dessert followed, of which Herbert partook . Still he thought he was terribly used in not having had different meat provided for him; and he could not recover his good humour. I tell you the Dares had been most culpably indulged. The house was one of luxury and profusion, and every little and fancy had been studied. It is one of the worst schools a child can be reared in.
 
The three younger daughters and the governess withdrew, after taking each a glass of wine. Cyril and George went off likewise, to their lessons or to play. It was their own affair, and Mr. Dare made it no concern of his. Presently Mrs. Dare and Adelaide rose.
 
"Hawkesley's coming in this evening," called out Anthony, as they were going through the door.
 
Adelaide turned. "What did you say, Anthony?"
 
"Lord Hawkesley's coming. At least he said he would look in for an hour. But there's no to be placed on him."
 
"We must be in the large drawing-room, mamma, this evening," said Adelaide, as they crossed the hall. "Miss Benyon and the children can take tea in the school-room."
 
"Yes," Mrs. Dare. "It is bad form to have one's drawing-room cucumbered with children, and Lord Hawkesley understands all that. Let them be in the school-room."
 
"Julia also?"
 
Mrs. Dare her shoulders. "If you can persuade her into it. I don't think Julia will consent to take tea in the school-room. Why should she?"
 
Adelaide no reply. Dutiful children they were not—affectionate children they were not—they had not been brought up to be so. Mrs. Dare was of the world, worldly: very much so: and that leaves very little time upon the hands for earnest duties. She had taken no pains to train her children: she had given them very little love. This conversation had taken place in the hall. Mrs. Dare went upstairs to the large drawing-room, a really handsome room. She rang the bell and gave orders, the moving for all being the doubtful visit of Viscount Hawkesley—ices from the pastrycook's, a tray of , the best china, the best silver. Then Mrs. Dare reclined in her chair for her after-dinner nap—an indulgence she much favoured.
 
Adelaide Dare entered the smaller drawing-room, an apartment more commonly used, and opening from the hall. Julia was reading a book just brought in from the library. Miss Benyon was softly playing, and the two little ones were quarrelling. Miss Benyon turned round from the piano when Adelaide entered.
 
"You must make tea in the school-room this evening, Miss Benyon, for the children. Julia, you are to take yours there."
 
Julia looked up from her book. "Who says so?"
 
"Mamma. Lord Hawkesley's coming, and we cannot have the drawing-room crowded."
 
"I am not going to keep out of the drawing-room for Lord Hawkesley," returned Julia, a quiet girl in appearance and manner. "Who is Lord Hawkesl............