There appeared to be a conspiracy afoot that night to render Jeffray’s hospitality obnoxious in every detail to the Hardacre folk. How was it that etiquette was so flagrantly outraged, that Mrs. Perkaby flaunted into the supper-room before a baronet’s daughter, and that Richard found himself shackled to Miss Julia Perkaby by his aunt’s machinations? How was it that Sir Peter was desired to give his arm to Mrs. Bilson, a lady who had slandered him outrageously on a certain occasion, and whom the baronet had detested ever since? How was it that Mr. Lot, whose astonished eyes beheld Richard in possession of his own especial flame, Miss Perkaby, was sent down with Miss Sugg, poor Mary, whose yellow face was as plain as a millstone, and whose conversation consisted of prim and monosyllabic nothings? And how was it that Miss Jilian was abandoned to Dr. Sugg, the elderly spinster’s refuge, and plumped down in an obscure corner? Never had so ill-assorted and tactless an affair been planned. There was some wanton spirit whispering malicious suggestions about the board. Sir Peter gulped down his food, swore in serious silence, while Mrs. Bilson favored him with an occasional glare over her bony shoulder. Mr. Lot, surly and morose, watched Richard and Miss Julia Perkaby with jealous attention, while Mary Sugg shivered and twisted her fingers into knots at his elbow. Dr. Sugg attempted in vain to bring the sparkle of a smile to Miss Hardacre’s outraged eyes. The Lady Letitia alone appeared amiable and garrulous and wholly at her ease. For the rest, a sulky and distraught silence possessed the majority of the guests. The plot developed still further when the gentlemen left their wine to join the ladies in the drawing-room. Card-tables with candles, ivory markers, and packs of cards had been set out by Peter Gladden and the footmen. The Lady Letitia was astir on the instant, bustling about like some gorgeous bumble-bee, setting every one in order, taking the whole function to herself. “Sir Peter would play whist; yes, and Mrs. Bilson was dying for a game. Dr. Sugg, will you partner me, please? We will challenge Mrs. Bilson and Sir Peter. Squire Rokeley, and you, Mr. Perkaby, will you two gentlemen arrange the other tables? No doubt the young folk would like to dance at the other end of the room. Mary will play for you on the harpsichord. Richard, dear, will you walk a minuet with Miss Julia Perkaby? Mrs. Perkaby, madam, I remember seeing your sweet daughter dance last season at The Wells. All the men were watching her—upon my soul, they were, madam. Miss Jilian, my dear, will you join the young folk, or take a hand at cards?”