"Well, it would be for all that," says she. "But"--hesitating in a last vain effort to dismiss, and then losing herself--, "suppose you do not abandon your visit altogether; that you go away, now, and get your lunch at your club--I feel," contritely, "how inhospitable I am--and then come back again here about four o'clock. She--I--will have returned by that time." "An excellent plan," says he, his face lighting up. Then it clouds again. "If she knows I am to be here?" "Ah! that is a difficulty," says Mrs. Monkton, her own pretty face showing signs of distress. "But anyhow, risk it." "I would rather she knew, however," says he steadily. The idea of entrapping her into a meeting with him is abhorrent to him. He had had enough of that at the Dore Gallery; though he had been innocent of any intentional deception there. "I will tell her then," says Mrs. Monkton; "and in the meantime go and get your----" At this moment the door on the right is thrown open, and Tommy, with a warhoop, descends upon them, followed by Mabel. "Oh! it's Felix!" cries he joyfully. "Will you stay with us, Felix? We've no one to have dinner with us to-day. Because mammy is going away, and Joyce is gone, and pappy is nowhere; and nurse isn't a bit of good--she only says, 'Take care you don't choke yourselves, me dearies!'" He imitates nurse to the life. "And dinner will be here in a minute. Mary says she's just going to bring it upstairs." "Oh, do--do stay with us," supplements little Mabel, thrusting her small hand imploringly into his. It is plain that he is in high favor with the children, however out of it with a certain other member of the family--and feeling grateful to them, Dysart hesitates to say the "No" that is on his lips. How hard it is to refuse the entreaties of these little clinging fingers--these eager, lovely, upturned faces! "If I may----?" says he at last, addressing Mrs. Monkton, and thereby giving in. "Oh! as for that! You know you may," says she. "But you will perfectly hate it. It is too bad to allow you to accept their invitation. You will be bored to death, and you will detest the boiled mutton. There is only that and--rice, I think. I won't even be sure of the rice. It may be tapioca--and that is worse still." "It's rice," says Tommy, who is great friends with the cook, and knows till her secrets. "That decides the question," says Felix gravely. "Every one knows that I adore rice. It is my one weakness." At this, Mrs. Monkton gives way to an irrepressible laugh, and he, catching the meaning of it, laughs, too. "You are wrong, however," says he; "that other is my one strength. I could not live without it. Well, Tommy, I accept your invitation. I shall stay and lunch--dine with you." In truth, it seems sweet in his eyes to remain in the house that she (Joyce) occupies; it will be easier to wait, to hope for her return there than elsewhere.