Accustomed to observe, Geoffrey saw this instantly, and then glanced at the father. The old man was frightened; clearly he was afraid of Elizabeth, and dreaded a scene. He stood fidgeting his feet about, and trying to find something to say, as he glanced apprehensively at his elder daughter, through his thin hanging hair. Lastly, Geoffrey looked at Beatrice, who was indeed well worth looking at. Her face was quite pale and the clear grey eyes shone out beneath their dark lashes. She had risen, drawing herself to her full height, which her exquisite proportions seemed to increase, and was looking at her sister. Presently she said one word and one only, but it was enough. “_Elizabeth._” Her sister opened her lips to speak again, but hesitated, and changed her mind. There was something in Beatrice’s manner that checked her. “Well,” she said at length, “you should not irritate me so, Beatrice.” Beatrice made no reply. She only turned towards Geoffrey, and with a graceful little bow, said: “Mr. Bingham, I am sure that you will forgive this scene. The fact is, we all slept badly last night, and it has not improved our tempers.” There was a pause, of which Mr. Granger took a hurried and rather undignified advantage. “Um, ah,” he said. “By the way, Beatrice, what was it I wanted to say? Ah, I know—have you written, I mean written out, that sermon for next Sunday? My daughter,” he added, addressing Geoffrey in explanation—“um, copies my sermons for me. She writes a very good hand——” Remembering Beatrice’s confidence as to her sermon manufacturing functions, Geoffrey felt amused at her father’s _naïve_ way of describing them, and Beatrice also smiled faintly as she answered that the sermon was ready. Just then the roll of wheels was heard without, and the only fly that Bryngelly could boast pulled up in front of the door. “Here is the fly come for you, Mr. Bingham,” said Mr. Granger—“and as I live, her ladyship with it. Elizabeth, see if there isn’t some tea ready,” and the old gentleman, who had all the traditional love of the lower middle-class Englishman for a title, trotted off to welcome “her ladyship.” Presently Lady Honoria entered the room, a sweet, if rather a set smile upon her handsome face, and with a graceful mien, that became her tall figure exceedingly well. For to do Lady Honoria justice, she was one of the most ladylike women in the country, and so far as her personal appearance went, a very perfect type of the class to which she belonged. Geoffrey looked at her, saying to himself that she had clearly recovered her temper, and that he was thankful for it. This was not wonderful, for it is observable that the more aristocratic a lady’s manners are, the more disagreeable she is apt to be when she is crossed.