"I have been thinking over things, Miss Crane, and I have come to the conclusion that I owe you an apology," said the widow, after having passed the customary compliments of the season. "I lost my temper the other day when I spoke of your leaving. But my wretched nerves--mother's side, you know--must be my excuse. You are too pleasant a companion and too valuable a teacher to my beloved child for me to lose you. You must please forget the words I said, and accept my sincere apology for them. Miss Crane, I ask you, will you stay?" This was a very neat little speech, and glibly enough expressed, but Miriam at once detected its falsity. Still, she accepted Mrs. Darrow's apology, and agreed to remain. "I'm sure I like you very much," said the widow effusively, "and I think someone else does too--someone who will be at the Manor House dinner to-night. Need I say that John is in my mind?" "Major Dundas and I are very good friends," replied Miriam gravely. "Yes, indeed; and some day you may be more than friends!" "I think not, Mrs. Darrow." "Well, we shall see. At all events, we are all going to enjoy ourselves to-night. Besides ourselves, Dr. and Mrs. Marsh are to be there, and Dicky by special desire--fancy the dear boy at a grown-up dinner-party! Uncle Barton's Christmas dinners are always excellent. I must say he does it very well. He seems to love to gather us all around him on this day, dear man," concluded Mrs. Darrow sentimentally. Miriam had to restrain a smile. "Really! You surprise me; but of course I have never yet seen Mr. Barton at Christmas time." "Oh, believe me, there is much good in Uncle Barton, although he is rough. He does not understand me, it is true, but there, I am a problem even to myself--I am one of those complex natures. Dear! how they suffer! Nor does he like everyone. There is Mrs. Parsley, for instance; I know he hates _her_, and I'm sure I don't wonder. By the way, you saw her last night--at least," added the widow pointedly, "you went out to see her." She looked directly at Miriam, who bore her scrutiny without flinching. "Yes; I saw Mrs. Parsley, and remained with her for some time. I suppose you had gone to bed when I returned. I was careful not to disturb you." "No; I was half asleep in the drawing-room," lied Mrs. Darrow glibly, "dozing over a stupid novel. I hope you had a satisfactory interview." "Very, thank you," replied Miriam, and there the matter dropped. At six o'clock the Squire sent his carriage, the coachman explaining that he came thus early, as he had to go on to fetch Dr. and Mrs. Marsh and their daughter. At this Mrs. Darrow grumbled loudly, for it meant she had to hurry over her toilet, and Mrs. Darrow's toilet was one of those things which did not do with hurrying. However, at length it was achieved, and the good lady, excited and flushed, allowed herself to be conducted to the carriage.