Waveney chatted happily to the child, while Tristram watched them with the lazy enjoyment of a tired man; and she never wondered why Mr. Chaytor was absent so long until he re-entered the room in his ulster. "The cab is here, Miss Ward," he said, coolly; "and you will find your things in my sister's room. Jemima says they are quite dry." Then Waveney only flashed a look of reproach at him, and walked meekly out of the room. Of course he was right, she knew that, and that the idea of the long, lonely walk, in the pelting rain, was absurd in the highest degree. But as Waveney went upstairs she was not sure that she liked the quiet way in which Mr. Chaytor asserted his will; it made her feel like a little school-girl in the presence of a master. He had not taken the trouble to argue the point with her, or to prove to her that she had made a mistake, but had just gone out and brought the cab; and so Waveney, who, in spite of her sweet temper, was a trifle self-willed and obstinate, felt secretly aggrieved, and even offended. And she entered the parlour with so dignified an air that Thorold, who could read her face, smiled to himself. Betty ran to her with a sorrowful exclamation. "Oh, must you go, Wavie, dear?" she said, dubiously. "Why, Bet," observed her uncle, rather shocked at this familiarity, "aren't you taking rather a liberty with your kind friend?" "She told me her name," returned Bet, in eager defence, "and she did say that I might call her what I liked. I know it was Wavie, or something like it." "Very like it, indeed, darling," replied Waveney, kneeling down and putting her arms round the child; "and it is prettier than Waveney, and I shall always want you to call me so. Now good-night, my little Betty." And then, as Betty clung to her and kissed her, Thorold looked at them rather gravely. "I am ready now," observed Waveney, resuming her stiff manner. "I suppose it will be no use telling you, Mr. Chaytor, that I can very well go by myself." "No," he returned, looking at her with very keen, bright eyes. "I am afraid your words would be wasted. You see, Miss Ward, I have a conscience, and my conscience tells me that I ought to see you safe in Miss Harford's hands." But to this Waveney vouchsafed no reply. She jumped into the cab and settled herself in her corner, and left Mr. Chaytor to dispose of himself as he would; and when he placed himself opposite to her, she only looked out intently at the lighted shops. Even the rain could not quite damp the festivity. The snow-white turkeys and geese, garlanded with holly, made a brave show; and the butcher's shop was full of shabby customers. Waveney's soft heart yearned as usual over the babies and little children. Then she turned her head, and met Mr. Chaytor's amused glance--it was so kind, it spoke of such complete understanding, that she felt a little ashamed of herself. "Miss Ward, have you forgiven me yet for doing my duty like a man?"