The day after that unfortunate fracas at the mills was Christmas Day. It will easily be understood that to Roger it did not this year form the most cheerful occasion imaginable. He had seen Ada on the evening of the twenty-fourth, and some kind of a reconciliation had then been patched up between them, but one which set Roger thinking, and made him feel that many differences of opinion might be less disastrous than such a making up of a quarrel. It had not been spontaneous; it had been largely due to the intervention of Mr. Dixon, who was very indignant with his daughter for what he called ‘making such an exhibition of herself.’ He condemned Otho Askam in no measured terms, but his blame of Ada and her ‘want of sense’ was almost as strong. He wanted to know where she meant to draw the line in her folly. He added that she was doing her character no good by such ‘carryings on,’ and uttered a dark hint as to the implacable nature of his wrath should she ever in the future disgrace, or as he expressed it, ‘lower herself’ in any way whatsoever. During the paternal admonitions Mrs. Dixon maintained an ominous silence. As has been before said, she did not favour Roger’s pretensions, and had always looked to her daughter to marry well;—not what Mr. Dixon considered to be well, but what she, his consort, understood by the term. On returning from the concert, and finding that Ada had gone to her room, her mother had repaired thither, and had extracted from the girl an account of every word uttered throughout the evening, by herself, Otho, Miss Wynter, and Roger. She had not said much, save some strong expressions condemnatory of Roger’s behaviour, which she characterised as ‘tyrannical,’ ‘impudent,’ ‘masterful,’ and ‘odious,’ and expressed indignation that her daughter should be forced to do the bidding of such a man. But at the recital of Otho’s attentions there was an expression in her face which Ada did not interpret as one of displeasure. By Mr. Dixon’s orders the young woman had received her betrothed with outward friendliness, though she declined with quiet, persistent obstinacy, to say she was sorry for what had happened. Reconciliations made to order are apt to carry about them a very strong flavour of their artificial nature and origin, and this particular reconciliation bore the stamp of unreality very plainly to be read.