She saw that all protestation was useless, supplication futile. Without a word she took his arm and returned to the drawing-room, there to find that Dr. and Mrs. Marsh had arrived meanwhile with Hilda, who was looking her best. Her mother was dressed untidily as ever, but there was also evident about her an air aggressive as it was unusual of splendour, significant of a desperate attempt on her part to make herself presentable. Dr. Marsh, in the immediate expectation of an uncommonly good dinner, saluted the Squire with positive unction, and an immediate adjournment to the dining-room met with his most unqualified approval. To attempt to single out this Christmas dinner in particular from Christmas dinners in general would be a task as superfluous as unprofitable. Suffice it to say that Dr. Marsh's anticipations were more than realised, and that when the ladies left the room he was in a state of mind bordering upon the transcendental. Barton, ever the most unconventional if not the most genial of hosts, took refuge in the seclusion of his library, and remained there for the rest of the evening. Chatter worried him, and that was the one spot in the world where he could depend upon enjoying complete immunity from it. But he had reckoned without his guest, for on this occasion Mrs. Darrow had decided he should come out of his shell, and was now casting about in her mind for some method of accomplishing her aim without risk to herself. It was rather more than she cared to venture upon in person. An expression came upon her face which seemed to intimate that she had an inspiration. Dicky!--yes, Dicky should go and ask his uncle to join what she termed the "circle." So away the boy sped on his errand of mercilessness, when of a truth he should have been in bed and fast asleep. "If anyone can persuade uncle to play a game of forfeits, Dicky can," piped Mrs. Darrow, when the door had closed behind the little fellow; "he is such a dear, nobody can resist him--he has my own nature," this last in all seriousness. "And your high spirits, Julia," added the Major. "Yes, I never seem to lose them, though it's wonderful I don't in the face of my many trials. Miss Crane, you will sing to us till Mr. Barton comes, won't you?" Miriam assented, with the result that song followed song, and the time flew by unheeded. As the clock struck eleven she rose quickly. "Whatever has become of Dicky?" she said; "he can't be with Mr. Barton all this time. I must go and look for him." She left the room hastily. "Such a good creature!" exclaimed Mrs. Darrow. "If she only knew her place she would be quite perfect." "I think Miss Crane _is_ perfect," retorted the Major with some asperity. "So say I," echoed Gerald. At that moment Miriam appeared at the door, pale, terrified, and scarcely able to articulate. Mrs. Darrow saw that something was wrong, and shrieked, "My child! my child!--my precious Dicky! Is he ill?" Miriam shook her head, and beckoned to Marsh.