"It is like the 'Arabian Nights,'" muttered the lad, when his host had left him. "To think of my cheek--Monsieur Blackie, indeed!" And then Noel sat on the edge of the chair and chuckled. "A viscount! Great Scott! Lord Ralston! My word, how the pater and old Storm-and-Stress will open their eyes! To think that 'the wobbly one' will be my lady some day!" And here Noel gave a long, low whistle, proving that, in spite of that vulgarity, inherent in the English school-boy, the embryo barrister had his wits about him. "It does not take much eyesight to see a blank wall--especially when it is painted white, and the sun shines," he had observed once to Waveney. "Any fool can see that chap is dead nuts on Mollie"--which was forcible if a trifle coarse. When Noel found his way back, with some difficulty, to the library, he saw a charming little dinner-table laid in readiness. Mrs. Barham evidently knew her business well. The fish and cutlets, and sweet omelette, were all excellent; and a wonderful dessert followed. Lord Ralston was most kind and hospitable, but he was hardly as good a companion as usual; he seemed absent, and was continually falling into a brown study. When dinner was over, and coffee had been brought, he gave up all attempt to be sociable. He even invited Noel to help himself to a book, and for the remainder of the evening Lord Ralston sat in silence, with his eyes fixed on the beech-logs, which were burning and sputtering so merrily. It was nearly dinner-time at the Red House when Althea reached home. Doreen, who was already dressed, was waiting for her in the library. Waveney was still upstairs. There was a short and hurried explanation on Althea's part, and a few ejaculations of pity from Doreen. Then she followed her sister upstairs and sent Peachy away. It was one of their pretty sisterly ways to wait on each other occasionally, and Althea, who was accustomed to this loving ministry, took it calmly and as a matter of course. Doreen wanted to talk to her, that was all. "I am so sorry you had such a wretched afternoon," observed Doreen, affectionately. "Poor dear, you were hardly fit for it. How was Mr. Ward? I am afraid he will be dreadfully anxious." "Anxious! I should think so from his looks. I should say he had had no sleep. Do you know, Dorrie, I have discovered something to-day; dearly as Everard loves all his children, it is Waveney who is the apple of his eye." "He loves her better than his pretty Mollie? Oh, no, Althea." "Yes, dear, I am sure of it, and I cannot say I am greatly surprised. Mollie is a dear, sweet child, but Waveney is more human and _spirituelle_, her nature has greater depth. Oh, there is the gong. Please help me to arrange this ruff. Dorrie, you must do all the talking at dinner. Waveney must have no hint of anything until we have finished--there is the shopping and your purchases; you must make the most of those."