"I don't know who can have set that about," said he. "But it's true, Miss Preen. Fennel pressed me to lend him ten pounds for a month; and I--well, I did it. I happened to have it in my pocket, you see, having just cashed a remittance from my father." "Has he repaid you, Mr. Charles?" "Oh, the month's not quite up yet," cried Charley. "Please don't talk of it, Miss Preen; he wouldn't like it, you know. How on earth it has slipped out I can't imagine." "No, I shall not talk of it," said Lavinia, as she wished him good-day and walked onwards, wondering what sort of a home Captain Fennel meant to provide for Ann. Lavinia Preen's cup of sorrow was not yet full. A morning or two after this she was seated at breakfast with the window open, when she saw the postman come striding across the yard with a letter. It was from the bride; a very short letter, and one that Miss Lavinia did not at once understand. She read it again. "MY DEAR LAVINIA, "All being well, we shall be home to-morrow; that is, on the day you receive this letter; reaching Sainteville by the last train in the evening. Please get something nice and substantial for tea, Edwin says, and please see that Flore has the bedroom in good order. "Your affectionate sister, "ANN FENNEL." The thing that Miss Lavinia did, when comprehension came to her, was to fly into a passion. "Come home here--_he!_--is that what she means?" cried she. "Never. Have that man in my house? Never, never." "But what has mademoiselle received?" exclaimed Flore, appearing just then with a boiled egg. "Is it bad news?" "It is news that I will not put up with--will not tolerate," cried Miss Lavinia. And, in the moment's dismay, she told the woman what it was. "Tiens!" commented Flore, taking a common-sense view of matters: "they must be coming just to show themselves to mademoiselle on their marriage. Likely enough they will not stay more than a night or two, while looking out for an apartment." Lavinia did not believe it; but the very suggestion somewhat soothed her. To receive that man even for a night or two, as Flore put it, would be to her most repugnant, cruel pain, and she resolved not to do it. Breakfast over, she carried the letter and her trouble to the Rue Pomme Cuite. "But I am afraid, Lavinia, you cannot refuse to receive them," spoke Madame Carimon, after considering the problem. "Not refuse to receive them!" echoed Lavinia. "Why do you say that?" "Well," replied Mary Carimon uneasily, for she disliked to add to trouble, "you see the house is as much Ann's as yours. It was taken in your joint names. Ann has the right to return to it; and also, I suppose"--more dubiously--"to introduce her husband into it." "Is that French law?" "I think so. I'll ask Jules when he comes home to dinner. Would it not be English law also, Lavinia?" Lavinia was feeling wretchedly uncomfortable. With all her plain common-sense, this phase of the matter had not struck her.