No more was seen of Miss Muir till teatime; for now, while the family were in retirement, they dined early and saw no company. The governess had excused herself at dinner, but came down in the evening a little paler than usual and with a slight limp in her gait. Sir John was there, talking with his nephew, and they merely acknowledged her presence by the sort of bow which gentlemen bestow on governesses. As she slowly made her way to her place behind the urn, Coventry said to his brother, “Take her a footstool, and ask her how she is, Ned.” Then, as if necessary to account for his politeness to his uncle, he explained how he was the cause of the accident. “Yes, yes. I understand. Rather a nice little person, I fancy. Not exactly a beauty, but accomplished and well-bred, which is better for one of her class.” “Some tea, Sir John?” said a soft voice at his elbow, and there was Miss Muir, offering cups to the gentlemen. “Thank you, thank you,” said Sir John, sincerely hoping she had overheard him. As Coventry took his, he said graciously, “You are very forgiving, Miss Muir, to wait upon me, after I have caused you so much pain.” “It is my duty, sir” was her reply, in a tone which plainly said, “but not my pleasure.” And she returned to her place, to smile, and chat, and be charming, with Bella and her brother. Lucia, hovering near her uncle and Gerald, kept them to herself, but was disturbed to find that their eyes often wandered to the cheerful group about the table, and that their attention seemed distracted by the frequent bursts of laughter and fragments of animated conversation which reached them. In the midst of an account of a tragic affair which she endeavored to make as interesting and pathetic as possible, Sir John burst into a hearty laugh, which betrayed that he had been listening to a livelier story than her own. Much annoyed, she said hastily, “I knew it would be so! Bella has no idea of the proper manner in which to treat a governess. She and Ned will forget the difference of rank and spoil that person for her work. She is inclined to be presumptuous already, and if my aunt won’t trouble herself to give Miss Muir a hint in time, I shall.” “Wait until she has finished that story, I beg of you,” said Coventry, for Sir John was already off. “If you find that nonsense so entertaining, why don’t you follow Uncle’s example? I don’t need you.” “Thank you. I will.” And Lucia was deserted.