'No--yes--was I?' stammers Halkett, rather shocked. 'I _ought_ to have been, of course; but I have fallen so low as to allow dinner to engross all my attention. Pray, forgive me. It comes entirely of going down to dinner with a middle-aged gourmet.' 'Dear me--I fancied you quite young,' responds his companion with a simper; and lapses again into silence after the effort. 'Politics!' says Uncle Charlie, going back to the subject, after he has desired the butler to take several different dishes to Miss Lobin. 'How you must have enjoyed yourselves--especially Cissy. I never met any woman with such keen and comprehensive views on all matters connected with the state. It was only yesterday I asked her opinion of Gladstone, and she told me she always thought he was'---- '_Now_--Uncle Charlie,' interrupts Miss Mordaunt with such indignation, that the old gentleman, though chuckling to himself, audibly refuses all further information. 'May we not hear your opinion of Gladstone?' demands Sir Thomas, who is an old beau, and much addicted to Miss Mordaunt. 'Certainly not. And remember I distinctly forbid you to ask Uncle Charlie any questions when my back is turned; as he is capable of saying _anything_ once my eye is off him.' 'Your will is my law,' says the old beau with a bow that would have reflected credit on a Chesterfield; and shortly afterwards, at a signal from Aunt Isabel, the ladies rising, leave the gentlemen to their own devices. On entering the drawing-room, Mrs Leyton walking with the undulating graceful motion that belongs to her, and that cannot be acquired, goes straight to the fireplace, where she sinks into a lounging-chair, leaving the opposite one for Aunt Isabel, who almost instantly falls into a gentle doze. Little Miss Millar, the vicar's daughter, losing sight of her shyness in her desire to obtain her object, seeks a resting-place that will enable her still to keep a fascinated watch over Mrs Leyton, the widow having cast a glamour over the timid country maiden. The Misses Brighton and Grace Elton keep up a continual chatter, and are evidently enjoying themselves immensely; while Miss Lobin taking the cosy corner of the sofa, emulates her hostess, and letting her face lengthen until it reaches a state of utter imbecility, sweetly snoozes.