"True for you," said Harriet, archly. "Well, you have not asked me all the particulars of Lucy's marriage." "I ought to congratulate you upon it," said Margaret, "I hope Lady Raymond is well?" "Lady Raymond--yes, I will let you call Lucy so, because you were not very intimate with her, though I mean you to know each other more by and by; but if you call me Lady Anything, when I marry a Lord, I will not forgive you. Yes, Lucy is very well, and as happy as possible. Lord Raymond is amazingly fond of her; the more so, perhaps, because he is not very likely to attract any body else. There was such a party at the breakfast! We, the bridesmaids, had pelisses of peach-coloured silk, trimmed with swansdown, and Lucy was all in white lace, and she looked so cold, poor girl, while we were as cosy as possible in our warm coats. And Lord Raymond stammered dreadfully; which was very odd, for I had been hearing him the responses for a week previous." "Harriet, you make me laugh!" "I mean it. Now let us come down together. You will love my Aunt Singleton; she is such a good little mouse!" Mrs. Singleton did win very much upon Margaret by the manner in which she received her: there was something in her quiet and impressive kindness which seemed to say that she felt a more than ordinary interest for the orphan who was thrown in her way. Margaret looked at her serious but sweet countenance, and felt with the intuitive knowledge that experience gives, that Mrs. Singleton must have suffered much at some period of her life, and that her placidity was as much the effect of resignation as of contentment. Mr. Singleton looked the hearty fox-hunter. He welcomed Margaret with honest kindness, thanked her repeatedly for taking so long a journey to gratify a wish of Harriet's, and hoped earnestly that dinner would soon be announced, since he was certain she must have been starved on the road. He then crossed over to welcome a strange looking young man who had entered the room, and was standing on the other side of the ample fire-place. This young man might have been of age, though a short, stumpy face, surmounting a very large person, gave him the appearance of a little boy under a strong magnifier. His arms were too short, and his hands, which were singularly small, seemed to hang the wrong way. He gave a little kick behind, when he attempted to bow, and began almost every sentence with a short barking laugh. "Look at that animal!" said Harriet leaning across to Margaret. "That is Mr. Humphries--the very rich Mr. Humphries! Is he not exactly like a seal set upright? Look at him trying to reach my aunt with his short fins! Quite in vain, my good friend! Oh, no, Mr. Humphries, I never shake hands, you know." The youth, who had advanced for the purpose of exchanging this courtesy with Harriet, barked, gave his accustomed scrape, and retired. Harriet continued her caustic remarks to Margaret.