It was nearly three o’clock. Adela compared her watch with the sitting-room clock, and, the gentlemen having retired, moved about the room with a look of uneasiness. Her mother stood at the window, seemingly regarding the sky, in reality occupying her thoughts with things much nearer. She turned and found Adela looking at her. ‘I want just to run over and speak to Letty,’ Adela said. ‘I shall very soon be back.’ ‘Very well, dear,’ replied her mother, scanning her face absently. ‘But don’t let them keep you.’ Adela quickly fetched her hat and left the house. It was her habit to walk at a good pace, always with the same airy movement, as though her feet only in appearance pressed the ground. On the way she again consulted her watch, and it caused her to flit still faster. Arrived at the abode of the Tews, she fortunately found Letty in the garden, sitting with two younger sisters, one a child of five years. Miss Tew was reading aloud to them, her book being ‘Pilgrim’s Progress.’ At the sight of Adela the youngest of the three slipped down from her seat and ran to meet her with laughter and shaking of curls. ‘Carry me round! carry me round!’ cried the little one. For it was Adela’s habit to snatch up the flaxen little maiden, seat her upon her shoulder, and trot merrily round a circular path in the garden. But the sister next in age, whose thirteenth year had developed deep convictions, interposed sharply-- ‘Eva, don’t be naughty! Isn’t it Sunday?’ The little one, saved on the very brink of iniquity, turned away in confusion and stood with a finger in her mouth. ‘I’ll come and carry you round to-morrow, Eva,’ said the visitor, stooping to kiss the reluctant face. Then, turning to the admonitress, ‘Jessie, will you read a little? I want just to speak to Letty.’ Miss Jessie took the volume, made her countenance yet sterner, and, having drawn Eva to her side, began to read in measured tones, reproducing as well as she could the enunciation of the pulpit. Adela beckoned to her friend, and the two walked apart. ‘I’m in such a fix,’ she began, speaking hurriedly, ‘and there isn’t a minute to lose. Mr. Mutimer has been having dinner with us; Alfred invited him. And I expect Mr. Eldon to come about four o’clock. I met him yesterday on the Hill; he came up just as I was looking out for Alfred with the glass, and I asked him if he wouldn’t come and say good-bye to mother this afternoon. Of course I’d no idea that Mr. Mutimer would come to dinner; he always goes away for Sunday. Isn’t it dreadfully awkward?’ ‘You think he wouldn’t like to meet Mr. Mutimer?’ asked Letty, savouring the gravity of the situation. ‘I’m sure he wouldn’t. He spoke about him yesterday. Of course he didn’t say anything against Mr. Mutimer, but I could tell from his way of speaking. And then it’s quite natural, isn’t it? I’m really afraid. He’ll think it so unkind of me. I told him we should be alone, and I shan’t be able to explain. Isn’t it tiresome?’