When they reached home, where of course they found bright fires ready for them, the men retired to the smoking-room, Mrs. Reade having laid upon her brother-in-law the responsibility of keeping his host from getting "any worse than he was already;" and the ladies went upstairs to Lucilla's apartment. Lucilla having only arrived in town the day before, she and her sister had had no opportunity for what they called a good talk; and now the baby being found asleep and in his nurse's charge for the night, they sat down to begin it, having previously got rid of ball-room finery and made themselves comfortable in their dressing-gowns. "Does Ned often get--a--like this?" Mrs. Thornley began, with a compassionate inflection in her soft voice. She knew of course that one couldn't expect everything, but still she was sorry that her sister's excellent marriage should have this particular drawback, than which she could hardly imagine one more unpleasant and embarrassing, and that a nice fellow like Ned, with a noble pedigree and the sweetest temper in the world, should take his social pleasures as a shearer would celebrate pay-day. Mrs. Reade was thinking, at the same moment, that John was ageing very fast and getting immensely stout, and that his manner of addressing his wife, and his bearing towards her generally, was more peremptory and dictatorial than _she_ would feel inclined to put up with if she were in Lucilla's place. "Oh, no," said the little woman, sharply; "it is only on these festive occasions, when I am not able to look after him properly. And at the worst he is not very bad. He never gets obstinate and quarrelsome, as some men do--only vaguely argumentative and subsequently sleepy. I should think no husband, with so pronounced a tendency that way could be easier to manage--if one knows how to manage." "You were always a splendid manager, Beatrice." "Well, I just hold him well in hand--that's all. I know he can't help it, to a certain extent, so I don't keep always worrying at him about it. It is only now and then that I give him a real good talking to--to prevent his thinking I might grow indifferent, as much as anything." "He is such a dear, good fellow," said Lucilla, "but for that." "He is a dear, good fellow, in spite of that," replied Beatrice, who allowed no one but herself to disparage her husband. "He is better worth having, with all his faults--and that is about the only one he has--than most of your brilliant society men. I only hope Mr. Kingston will be as little trouble to Rachel as Ned has been to me--and half as good and kind to her." "Yes, dear. I didn't mean to say that he wasn't the best of husbands--far from it. Indeed, we may both be thankful for our good luck in that respect--all of us, I should say. I should think no four girls in one family are more happily situated than we are." "I hope so," sighed Mrs. Reade. "I hope we are all as happy as--as we are well off otherwise."