They were interrupted by a commotion. Maude had been threading a splendid ring all the colours of the rainbow, and now exhibited it for the benefit of admiring beholders. "Papa--Aunt Margaret--look at my ring." Lord Hartledon nodded pleasantly at the child from his distant seat; Lady Margaret appeared not to have heard; and Maude caught up a soft ball and threw it at her aunt. Unfortunately, it took a wrong direction, and struck the nodding dowager on the nose. She rose up in a fury and some commotion ensued. "Make me a ring, Maude," little Anne lisped when the dowager had subsided into her chair again. Maude took no notice; her finger was still lifted with the precious ornament. "Can you see it from your sofa, Edward?" The boy rose and stretched himself. "Pretty well. You have put it on the wrong finger, Maude. Ladies don't wear rings on the little finger." "But it won't go on the others," said Maude dolefully: "it's too small." "Make a larger one." "Make one for me, Maude," again broke in Anne's little voice. "No, I won't!" returned Maude. "You are big enough to thread beads for yourself." "No, she's not," said Reginald. "Make her one, Maude." "No, don't, Maude," said Edward. "Let them do things for themselves." "You hear!" whispered Lady Hartledon. "I do hear. And Val sits there and never reproves them; and the old dowager's head and eyes are nodding and twinkling approval." Lady Laura was an energetic little woman, thin, and pale, and excessively active, with a propensity for setting the world straight, and a tongue as unceremoniously free as the dowager's. In the cause of justice she would have stood up to battle with a giant. Lady Hartledon was about to make some response, but she bade her wait; her attention was absorbed by the children. Perhaps the truth was that she was burning to have a say in the matter herself. "Maude," she called out, "if that ring is too small for you, it would do for Anne, and be kind of you to give it her." Maude looked dubious. Left to herself, the child would have been generous enough. She glanced at the dowager. "May I give it her, grand'ma?" Grand'ma was conveniently deaf. She would rather have cut the ring in two than it should be given to the hated child: but, on the other hand, she did not care to offend Laura Level, who possessed inconveniently independent opinions, and did not shrink from proclaiming them. Seizing the poker, she stirred the fire, and created a divertissement. In the midst of it, Edward left his sofa and walked up to the group and their beads. He was very weak, and tottered unintentionally against Anne. The touch destroyed her equilibrium, and she fell into Maude's lap. There was no damage done, but the box of beads was upset on to the carpet. Maude screamed at the loss of her treasures, rose up with anger, and slapped Anne. The child cried out. "Why d'you hit her?" cried Reginald. "It was Edward's fault; he pushed her."