"He dare not!" said Kate, with a sudden lighting of the eye, and proud drawing up of the head that seemed to her good easy friend like the revelation of some unknown world. "Well my dear, whatever you like," she said, meekly. Mrs. Storey's conjectures proved true, for, notwithstanding the weather, Lord Effingham arrived punctually at the time specified. Kate felt her heart beat a little nervously, as she watched him walking across the garden, from the window of the nursery where she had ensconced herself. In due course of time, Mrs. Storey's message reached her. "Please'm, my missis says, would you be so good as to step down." "My compliments, I am particularly engaged," said Miss Vernon, quietly. And soon after, she heard the hall door open and shut, and the sound of retreating wheels informed her the enemy was in retreat. She found Mrs. Storey looking rather crest-fallen. "Well, my dear, he is gone--in a very bad humour, I can tell you--he came in so politely, and asked if we still intended to go. So I told him about my brother being from home, he did not seem to mind it much; but said he hoped another time we should be more successful; then he asked for you, and if you were at home, so I sent for you, and I assure my dear, I was beginning to feel quite nervous, for though he smiled and talked, he was looking very black, as if he was vexed at not seeing you. When Maria brought back your message, he turned and looked out of the window for a minute, then he said, with a very different kind of smile from what I saw before--'I should be sorry to interfere with Miss Vernon's particular engagements, and as I am very likely interrupting your avocations, I shall bid you good morning.' I told him I had nothing in the world to do at that hour of the day--but he did not seem to hear me speak, and with a sort of proud bow, he walked off; and, my dear girl, I am sure you have mortally offended him; but, for all that, I think he might have listened when I spoke to him." "Yes," said Kate, "he was very rude, and we must both be out if he comes again, though I do hope and believe that was a mere threat." All remembrance of his Lordship's impertinence was quickly obliterated from Mrs. Storey's mind, by the rapidly increasing toils of preparation for "the thirtieth;" it was to be a quiet musical party--in consideration of Miss Vernon's mourning--but very _recherché_. Mrs. Storey determined the supper should be what her husband termed a "chief endeavour," the facetious translation of "_chef d'oeuvre_."