Possibly in this last instance he had spoken out too quickly for Harriet Wesden; and though suspense was over, he did not feel pleased with his tactics of that particular evening. And he _was_ inclined to keep back all the unpleasant reminiscences of that night, sink them for ever in the waters of oblivion, and never let a soul know what an ass he had made of himself. It was his first imprudence, and he was aggrieved at it; he had given way to impulse, and suffered his love to escape at an unpropitious moment--his ears burned to think of all the folly which he had committed. In a bad temper--he who was generally so calm and equable--he took his tea, and shunned his father's inspection by turning his back upon him. After a while he took up the _Times_, which he had previously declined, and feigned an interest in the "Want Places." Mattie came in and out of the room with the hot water, &c.; she waited on the Hinchfords when Ann of all work was weak in the ankles, which was of frequent occurrence. Mattie made herself generally useful, and rather liked trouble than not. With a multiplicity of tasks on her mind, she was always more cheerful; it was only when there was nothing to do that her face assumed a sternness of expression as if the shadow of her early days were settling there. Mattie, bustling to and fro in attendance upon the Hinchfords, observed all and said nothing, like a sensible girl. She was quick enough to see that something unusual had happened above stairs as well as below, and her interest was as great in these two friends--and _helpers_--as in the Wesdens. She would have everybody happy in that house--it had been a lucky house for her, and it should be for all in it, if she possessed the power to make it so! She saw that one trouble had come at least; and looking intently at Sidney's grim face--she had busied herself with the bread and butter plate to get a good look at it--she read its story more plainly than he would have liked. Outside the door she paused and put "this and that together"--_this_ in the drawing-room, and _that_ in the parlour, and jumped at once at the right conclusion, with a rapidity that did infinite credit to her seventeen years. Seventeen years then, and rather shorter than ever, if that were possible. "He has been courting Harriet--I know he has!" she said; "and Harriet's been in a tantrum, and said something to cross him--that's it!" She missed a step and shook up the tea-things that she was carrying down-stairs. This recalled her to the duties of her situation. "One thing at a time, Mattie, my dear," she said, in a patronizing way to herself, as she descended to the lower regions. In those lower regions poor Ann Packet created another divergence of thought. Ann's ankles continued to swell--she had been much on her feet during the last heavy wash, and the gloomy thought had stolen to her, that her new calamity--she was a woman born for calamities--would end in the hospital.