Neither Julia nor Mary had ever seen him like that before. Julia was unaffectedly distressed. "Oh, Mary, why did I ever lend it to you?" Now Mary knew very well where the bracelet was, but she was ashamed to say; she stammered and said, "You know, dear, it is too small, much too small, and my arm is bigger than yours." "There!" said Julia; "you have broken the clasp!" Mary colored up to the eyes at her own disingenuousness, and said, hastily, "But I'll have it mended directly; I'll return it to-morrow at the latest." "I shall be wretched till you do," said Julia, eagerly. "I suppose you know what I want it for now?" "Why," said Mary, "of course I do: to soothe his wounded feelings." "Soothe _his_ feelings!" cried Julia, scornfully; "and how about mine? No; the only thing I want it for now is to fling it in his face. His soul is as small as his body: he's a little, mean, suspicious, jealous fellow, and I'm very glad to have lost him." She flounced off all on fire, looking six feet high, and got quite out of sight before she began to cry. Then the truth came out. Mary, absorbed in conjugal bliss, had left it at the hotel by the lakes. She told Walter. "Oh, hang it!" said Walter; "that's unlucky; you will never see it again." "Oh yes, I shall," said Mary; "they are very honest people at that inn; and I have written about it, and told them to keep it safe, unless they have an opportunity of sending it." Walter reflected a moment. "Take my advice, Mary," said he. "Let me gallop off this afternoon and get it." "Oh yes, Walter," said Mary. "Thank you so much. That will be the best way." At this moment loud and angry voices were heard coming round the corner, and Mary uttered a cry of dismay, for her discriminating ear recognized both those voices in a moment. She clutched Walter's shoulder. "Oh, Walter, it's your father and mine quarrelling. How unfortunate that they should have met! What shall we do?" "Hide in Hope's office. The French window is open." "Quick, then!" cried Mary, and darted into the office in a moment. Walter dashed in after her. When she got safe into cover she began to complain. "This comes of concealment--we are always being driven into holes and corners." "I rather like them with you," said the unabashed Walter. It matters little what had passed out of sight between Bartley and Colonel Clifford, for what the young people heard now was quite enough to make what Sir Lucius O'Trigger calls a very pretty quarrel. Bartley, hitherto known to Mary as a very oily speaker, shouted at the top of his voice in arrogant defiance, "You're not a child, are you? You are old enough to read papers before you sign them."