"Your sister uses me very ill," said he, turning to Lady Raymond; "she would have me believe that all my merits lie in that altar-cloth." "What did it cost, Mr. Haveloc?" said Harriet. "Will you confess to the cost of your chestnut, if I tell you?" "Agreed." "Three hundred guineas." "You don't say so!" "And the chestnut?" "The very sum." "But my cloth will outlast your horse." "Well, I allow that," said Harriet; "but it does not follow that you are the less extravagant of the two." "You are both horridly extravagant," said Lucy, "but say when you will dine with us." "Mr. Haveloc," said Harriet, beckoning him close to her, "another attraction, Mrs. Fitzpatrick is with us." His agitation quite satisfied Harriet; he started, coloured, tried to speak very calmly, and turned to Lady Raymond. "Will your ladyship allow me to say to-morrow?" "By all means," she said, "if you cannot really come to-day." "I wish I could," he replied. Another confirmation for Margaret, if she had needed it. The whole chancel seemed swimming round. She asked Harriet in a low voice if she knew how late it was. "No, ma mie, enlighten me," said Harriet. Margaret showed her watch. "The fact is, you are quite tired child," said Harriet, looking attentively at her face. "Quite--the heat--" faltered Margaret. "Then we will go at once," said Mrs. Gage with her usual decision. Mr. Haveloc was trying to persuade Lady Raymond to go on to Tynebrook, to see some Vandykes, and taste some particular black grapes. Lucy was hesitating. "No, no, no!" said Harriet, coming between them, "you will be late, I tell you; and you know that half a hundred formal people are coming to dinner. You will get into sad disgrace." Lucy decided at once to go home, and Mr. Haveloc gave her his arm, and walked with them through the church-yard to the carriage. "Mr. Haveloc," said Harriet, "we are going to act a French vaudeville; the parts are not all filled. Will you take one?" "I regret that my genius does not lie that way;" he said, "what is the play?" "'La Demoiselle à marier.' Lucy is too idle to act--her forte is in tableaux. I am going to be the mother; Lord James Deacon, the friend; the father is to be forthcoming when we want him, and as Lady James won't take the lover, which is a shame, for she has an excellent figure for it; I don't very well see how you can be off--" "I should put you out. I have no turn for the stage; and, besides, I am not familiar with French," he said, "if it had been Italian now--" "Oh! you speak it as well as we do, I dare say," said Lucy, "you had better take it, I think." "We will talk it over to-morrow," said Harriet as he put her into the carriage. "And who plays the 'Demoiselle à marier?'" he asked. "We want to persuade Miss Campbell," said Lucy, "because she sings well, and speaks French beautifully; better, I believe than any Englishwoman ever did."