She could not tell whether there was anger or kindness in his voice, and she could not well see his face. She took his hand and went into the dining-room, which was also dusk, and standing there told him all her story. “This is too bad, Sheila,” he said, in atone of deep vexation. “By Jove! I’ll go and thrash the dog within an inch of his life.” “No,” she said, drawing herself up; and for one brief second--could he have but seen her face--there was a touch of old Mackenzie’s pride and firmness about the ordinarily gentle lips. It was but for a second. She cast down her eyes and said, meekly, “I hope you won’t do that, Frank. The dog is not to blame. It was my fault.” “Well, really, Sheila,” he said, “you are very thoughtless. I wish you would take some little trouble to act as other women act, instead of constantly putting yourself and me in the most awkward positions. Suppose I had brought any one home to dinner, now? And what am I to say to Ingram? for, of course, I went direct to his lodgings when I discovered that you were nowhere to be found. I fancied some mad freak had taken you there; and I should not have been surprised. Indeed, I don’t think I should be surprised at anything you do. Do you know who was in the hall when I came in this afternoon?” “No,” said Sheila. “Why, that wretched old hag who keeps the fruit-stall. And it seems you gave her and all her family tea and cake in the kitchen last night.” “She is a poor woman,” said Sheila, humbly. “A poor old woman!” he said, impatiently. “I have no doubt she is a lying old thief, who would take an umbrella or a coat, if only she could get the chance. It is really too bad, Sheila, you having all those persons about you, and demeaning yourself by attending on them. What must the servants think of you?” “I do not heed what any servants think of me,” she said. She was now standing erect, with her face quite calm. “Apparently not,” he said, “or you would not go and make yourself ridiculous before them.” Sheila hesitated for a moment, as if she did not understand; and then she said, as calmly as before, but with a touch of indignation about the proud and beautiful lips, “And if I make myself ridiculous by attending to poor people, it is not my husband who should tell me so.”