Dora’s companion had entered the room and approached the group. Directly their eyes met, Mr Jefferson and Jim recognised each other, the former being no less a person than the pale-faced gentleman who had uttered loud remarks at the Exhibition concerning early closing. "I too have had the pleasure of meeting Dr Mortimer before," said Mr Jefferson, without troubling to return Jim’s bow, "but I cannot say that I am pleased to see him again." "Why, dear me!" said Jim with ready wit, "you must be the man who trod on my toes at the Exhibition the other night." And at this unexpected rejoinder--much to Mr Jefferson’s annoyance--Dora’s pretty lips parted in an unmistakable smile. *CHAPTER IX.* *IN THE PILLORY.* The somewhat strained situation brought about by Mr Jefferson’s remark was suddenly relieved by a loud scream, and then a volume of shrill protest from Mary, who appeared, judging by the sound of her voice, to be in close proximity to the drawing-room door. "Shut _hup_, Master Frank--give _hover_, I say. Your pa shall ’ear of this----" Master Frank jeered rudely. "Bah, tell-! Don’t care if he does!" "Oh!" shrieked Mary, "it’s bitin’ me. Take it off, Master Frank!" Mr Maybury walked to the door and, opening it, looked into the hall. "What is the matter, Mary--why are you making so much noise?" he inquired. "Master Frank put a beetle on my neck," whimpered Mary. "Didn’t," said Frank. "Don’t tell an untruth, Frank," his father warned him. "Did you or did you not put a beetle on Mary’s neck?" "It was a spider," admitted Frank, who, tease and scapegrace as he was, had not yet developed into that most difficult of persons to deal with--a liar. "It was something crawly, and I thought it was a beetle," said Mary; "he keeps beetles," she added, in a tone conveying painfully correct knowledge on the point. "Apologise at once to Mary," Mr Maybury commanded his son. "Don’t see why I should," muttered the rebellious youth. "Very well, then--you will not go to the theatre to-night with Mr Jefferson and Dora." The younger Miss Maybury, blushing somewhat (Jim noted the fact with a sinking heart), hastened to the scene of reprimand. "Oh, Frank--say you are sorry. You _must_ come to-night." Mr Jefferson, with his eye on the old-fashioned chandelier, fervently hoped that Frank would remain obstinately unrepentant. "I’m--er--sorry," said Frank, stiffly. "_Dear_ Frank--I knew you would!" said Dora, flinging her arms round her brother’s neck and bestowing a kiss of gratitude upon his brow. "Here--chuck that!" cried Frank, shaking himself free. "What time must I be ready by?" he added. "We shall start directly after dinner--I’m going up to dress now," cried Dora, and so the group separated, Frank and his sister proceeding upstairs, Mary descending to the kitchen--where Miss H. R. Maybury was preparing the evening meal--and Mr Maybury returning to the drawing-room.