“That means that you won’t obey me, I suppose?” She did not reply. “Very well then; I sha’n’t say any more,” said Harry, shaking with passion; “but, when I find him again grinning at you over his copy-book and swaggering about with his French, I shall just pitch his books and his tomfoolery into the fire and punch his head for him.” “That will be very wise,” remarked Annie gravely. “And, if you were only to treat in the same way every other person who can talk to me on subjects that interest me and who does not grumble at me from morning till night, I am sure I should become a much better wife and a much more entertaining companion for yourself.” She had risen and walked toward the door. “Where are you going?” asked Harry sharply. “To meet Lilian at the station. You know she is coming to-day, and Stephen with her.” He let her go without further comment; but, when she came down-stairs again, ready to start, she found him in the hall playing with a hunting-crop. “I say, Annie, are you going to the library at Beckham?” “Yes.” “Will you get some books for me?” “For you!” said his wife, in amazement. “Yes, for me”--very irritably. “Oh, yes, certainly! What books shall I get?” “Oh, anything you like!”--and, without looking at her, he marched off into the billiard-room. “I hope there is nothing the matter with his head,” thought Annie, anxiously, as she got into the carriage. Annie went to the station to meet her sister-in-law, without any of the nervousness she had once felt before an interview with that imperious beauty. If Lilian should resent the change in her position at the Grange, Annie was quite ready to go, and was rather hoping that Mrs. Falconer’s arrival might pave the way for her own departure. She bought the _Era_ on her entrance into the station, and, having some minutes to wait before the train from London was due, went into the waiting-room, cut the leaves of the paper roughly with a pencil she happened to have in her pocket, and glanced through the pages eagerly. She found what she wanted--a notice of a morning performance in which she knew that Aubrey Cooke was to play a part; and, with flushed cheeks and beating heart, she read that he had made the chief success in the piece, in a character so well played that the critic pronounced him “the coming comedian.” Annie knew that this sentence was one she had heard before of other young actors who never came to anything in particular. But her pleasure in reading this testimony to his talent was none the less great, and with trembling fingers, she almost involuntarily drew a shaky line with her pencil down that part of the notice which referred to him. She was looking brilliant when she met Lilian, who complimented her on her appearance, and said she had heard from her brothers that she would now have to subside meekly into the second place, since Annie had grown into such a charming woman.