“Then you must contrive to make better ones, and to time them rather more appropriately,” rejoined Alice, so snappishly that her husband looked up in surprise. Recalled to herself by the unmistakeable astonishment depicted on the bright, good-natured countenance of her better half, Alice continued in a milder tone, “You must not mind what I say this morning, Harry, dear; my headache makes me so dreadfully cross and stupid.” “Poor little thing! you were shut up all yesterday, you know, and that is enough to give anybody a headache,” returned Harry, who considered houses were built only to dine and sleep in, and would have had Alice spend her days _al fresco_, even as he delighted to do. “You must go out as much as possible to-day; luckily it is very fine.” “Yes; and I am to be honoured with my husband’s company too, which is a most unaccustomed pleasure,” rejoined Alice, brightening up at the recollection. “It is certainly very good policy to make yourself so scarce, though I wish you did not adhere quite so strictly to it; why you have not driven out with me since we returned from Popem Park! At what time do you mean to order the carriage?” “Why it’s an hour’s drive at least; James had better be at the door by two o’clock,” replied Harry. Then turning towards the fire, and moving the ornaments on the chimney-piece into wrong positions, he continued, with an elaborate attempt at _nonchalance_, which veiled most inefficiently his consciousness that he was about to perform an act against which his moral sense rebelled, he resumed: “I’m afraid my love that I must ask you to call upon the Duchess of Brentwood without me this morning--a business engagement of--a--importance--that is, one that I cannot avoid, will, I am afraid----” And here he broke off abruptly, for, glancing at his wife, he perceived an expression in her pretty face that he had never beheld there before; the bright eyes were flashing, the soft cheeks burned, and the coral lips pouted with unmistakeable anger. Harry had at length gone too far, and his sweet-tempered, loving-hearted little wife was positively and seriously angry with him. But so unusual a circumstance demands a fresh chapter. CHAPTER XXV.--THE STORM BURSTS. Alice Coverdale, annoyed and pained by what she considered her husband’s injustice and unkindness, did not leave him long in doubt as to her feelings upon the subject; for as soon as she could conquer a choking sensation in the throat sufficiently to speak, she exclaimed:--