Missy felt as if she wanted to cry; it was such an enemy's country she was in. She was generally quite ready to defend herself, but this time she had not a word to say; her eyes fell, and her sensitive face showed her pain. Everybody tried not to look at her, but did look at her, of course, and then they tried to talk of other things so diligently as to be apparent. The dinner was wretched after this; a sort of damp crept over every one, even in the youth's department, as Flora called their end of the table. Mr. Andrews never said a word, good or bad, to any one, and that is not a convivial example for a host to set. The dinner had not been a very good one, although pretentious, and Mrs. Eustace had secret stings of apprehension from his silence. She did not know whether it arose from annoyance about the disrespect to Missy, or from disapprobation of the ducks, which were dried up and skinny, and one could fancy had a taste of smoke. The dessert was tame, and the coffee tepid. Contrasted with the perfection of the ménage next door, it was a very shabby dinner, and Mrs. Eustace felt really vicious when she watched Miss Rothermel, scarcely attempting to taste the successive failures set before her. But if the truth were known, it was not contempt for the failures, but real inability to eat. She had been galled and wounded beyond her power to show fight; she only asked to get out of it all, and to be let alone. Even Mrs. Eustace saw she had perhaps gone too far, as she heard the quiver in Missy's voice, when called upon to answer some question at a time that everyone was listening. Mr. Andrews might think she had as much transcended her part in insulting his guest, as she had fallen below it in not preparing him a good dinner; she telegraphed to Flora to discontinue. Flora, in alarm, discontinued, but the ship did not right itself. The mamma and the papa could not recover themselves, the doctors of medicine and theology were helpless in the emergency, the young people were in confusion, Mr. Andrews was struck speechless; it was a total wreck. The ladies got into the parlor somehow--the gentleman got through their smoking somehow. When they met there afterward, it was to find a very silent party; the young ladies were yawning and declaring themselves worn out with the sailing party of the morning. Missy was sitting in a chair by the window, her face away from the rest of the party. Jay was standing in a chair beside her, pulling at the drapery of the window, and talking in a very big-boy tone, but in reality very much comforted by being with her. She had one hand stretched up to take hold of his skirt, for he was rather in danger of tumbling, notwithstanding his grand talk. Missy understood him, and was satisfied of his affection. Mr. Andrews walked straight up to her, not noticing anybody else as he came into the room. She felt herself color fiercely before she turned her face around, for she knew that he was coming.