"Oh, dear Bunny," she said to her saturnine husband, "what a lovely way Lionel puts things! Do let us help people. There's Leah, you know----" "Exactly," assented Frith, dryly. "I do know, and for that reason I don't intend to waste money in that direction." "But Lionel talked of aiding the poor and needy." "That doesn't include the extravagant and ungrateful," retorted her lord. "You are an unsophisticated child, Hilda." "Oh, Bunny, how could you call poor Leah and her husband names? We must love every one at this season." "Oh, I'll love them as much as you please; but not to the extent of supporting them." Plainly there was nothing to be got out of Frith, as Lady Jim decided when the Marchioness reported a part of this conversation later in the day. But she attempted to soften the Marquis by saying things which she knew the child-wife would babble again to her hard-hearted husband. "Jim and I don't want money, dear," she said, kissing Lady Frith; "so long as Frith is nice to us, we don't care. You have your position to keep up, and we are nothing. But it was sweet of you to speak." "Oh no," prattled Hilda, in her childish way. "I want every one to love me, ever so much." "I am sure they do. Isn't Frith jealous?" "As nearly jealous as a perfect man can be." "I thought perfect men had no imperfection," retorted Lady Jim, ironically; "but it's all right, dear," another kiss--"we must bear our cross, as Lionel said this morning. Now I must go to see old Mrs. Arthur. One must be good to one's inferiors." The result of this conversation was, that Lady Frith told her husband of Leah's pointedly correct humbleness; whereat the marquis laughed shortly. He quite understood Lady Jim's tactics, and was resolved that they should not succeed. Frith was one of the few men Lady Jim had never fascinated, and she hated to be under his clear-sighted gaze. If Hilda could have heard Leah's inward remarks as she proceeded to the housekeeper's room, she would scarcely have given so favourable a report. "Good day, Mrs. Arthur," said Lady Jim, to the old-fashioned dame in the black silk and lace cap, who rose to drop a prim curtsey. "I have come to wish you the compliments of the season." "Thank you, my lady. Won't you be seated?"