“Perhaps not in the camlet hood, which Dame Wheatfield says she wore.” “Was good old Dove acting as coachman?” said Betty. “We should learn something from him.” “It was not her own coach,” said Mr. Belamour. “All the servants were strangers, the liveries sanguine, and the panels painted with helmets and trophies.” “Mar’s,” said Sir Amyas, low and bitterly. “I guessed as much,” said his uncle. “It was probably chosen on purpose, if the child has friends in your own household.” “Then I must demand her,” said the Major. “She cannot be denied to her father.” “At any rate we must go to town to-morrow,” said Mr. Belamour. “We have done all we can here.” “Let us send for horses and go on at once,” cried Sir Amyas. “Not so fast, nephew. I see, by her face, that Miss Delavie does not approve, though our side of the town is safer than Hounslow.” “I was not thinking of highwaymen, sir, but we set forth at five this morning, and Sir Amyas always becomes flushed and feverish if he is over fatigued; nor is my father so strong as he was.” “Ah, ha! young sir, in adopting Betty for a sister you find you have adopted a quartermaster-general, eh?” said the Major; “but she is quite right. We should not get to town before ten or eleven at night, and what good would that do? No, no, let us sup and have a good night’s rest, and we will drive into town long enough before fine ladies are astir in the morning, whatever may be the fashionable hour nowadays.” “Yes, nephew, you must content yourself with acting host to your father and sister-in-law in your own house,” said his uncle. “It seems to me more like yours, sir,” rejoined the youth; but at the hall door, with all his native grace, he turned and gave his welcome, kissing Betty on the cheek with the grave ceremony of the host, and lamenting, poor fellow, that he stood alone without his bride to receive them. “Is that Jumbo?” asked Betty. “I must thank him for all his kind service to my dear sister.” Faithful Jumbo fairly wept when--infinite condescension for those days--Major Delavie shook hands with him and thanked him. “If pretty Missie Madam were but safe and well, Jumbo would wish no more,” he sobbed out. “Poor Jumbo,” said Mr. Belamour, “he has never been the same man since pretty Missie Madam has been lost. I hear his violin mourning for her till it is enough to break one’s heart!” However Eugene created a diversion by curious inquiries whether Jumbo would indeed play the fiddle of which he had heard from Archer and Amoret, and he ran off most eagerly after the negro to be introduced to the various curiosities of the place. Mrs. Aylward attended Miss Delavie to her room, and showed herself much softened. As a good, conscientious woman, she felt that she had acted a selfish part towards the lonely maiden, and Betty’s confident belief that she had been a kind friend was a keen reproach.