"Then I shall not go at all," announced Verona, and as she spoke she began to remove her hat. "I will write a note of excuse. Please tell the man to take round the victoria." Mrs. Chandos was barely in time to hear the fag end of this conversation, and burst out in a fury of passion. "Hi! hi! what do you mean giving those grand lady orders here? I only give orders in this house. You learn thatt, Miss. I now order you, take your sister to Mrs. Barwell's. If you were not a bad hearted, mean, thankless wretch, you would feel glad and proud to introduce Dominga to your friends. She shall go--and I say it!" "Then she goes alone; and, indeed, I am not at all anxious to resume my acquaintance with Mrs. Barwell." "Oh, it is already three o'clock," screamed Mrs. Chandos; "you will be late! What is the good of you--you idle, useless doll, but to help your sisters into society?" Mrs. Chandos was perfectly livid with passion; her tongue, now loosened, gave vent to a torrent of abuse. At this particular moment Verona caught sight of her father timidly opening the door of his den, and, turning her back on her storming mother, she hurried to appeal to him. "Father," she began, "I am invited to tea in Rajahpore with a lady I once knew slightly; I have no desire to know her any better. My mother accepted the invitation, and now insists on sending Dominga with me. I'm sure Mrs. Barwell will think it a great intrusion. What am I to do?" "Go, my dear," was his surprising reply; "go; you must submit to your mother. There is no alternative." "Go?" she repeated incredulously. "You are not in earnest!" "Yes," and his voice faltered, poor, craven man. "Go for my sake, Verona--and the sake of peace. These scenes"--and he nodded towards the verandah--"are distracting. Oh, go, my dear, for God's sake--it will only be a little hurt to your pride, and it will soon be over!" and with this extremely faint consolation, Verona, holding her head very high, went down the steps and took her place in the victoria beside her exultant sister. CHAPTER XXV