He returned from the funeral looking like one broken-hearted, and brought back with him to Homewood his nephew and niece, who were to remain there "until something definite could be settled about their future." To this arrangement Dolly made no objection. Dolly would not have objected had her husband suggested inviting the noblemen composing the House of Lords, or a regiment of soldiers, or a squad of workhouse boys. People came and people went. It was all the same to Dolly. CHAPTER VI. MRS. MORTOMLEY IS ADVISED FOR HER GOOD. "My dear, you never mean to tell me Richard Halling's son and daughter are _here_ for an indefinite period." It was Mrs. Werner who, dressed in a light summer muslin, which trailed behind her over the grass, addressed this remark to Mrs. Mortomley attired in deep mourning--barathea and crape trailing behind her likewise. "Yes, they are," said Dolly indifferently. "For how long a time they are to be here I have not the faintest idea. It makes no difference to me. They go their way and I go mine. Antonia dresses herself to receive her _fiancé_ and goes to stay with his sister. Rupert lounges about, plays the piano, bribes Lenore to sit still like an angel. They do not interfere with me and I do not interfere with them. There is nothing to make a song about in the matter." "Dolly," said her friend, "You will go your own way once too often." Dolly opened her eyes as wide as she could, and asked, "Whose way would you have me go." "I would have you take a woman's place and assume a wife's responsibilities." "Good gracious!" and Dolly plumped down on the grass. "Leonora, you utter dark sayings, be kind enough to explain your words of wisdom in plain English." There was a garden chair close at hand, and Mrs. Werner took advantage of it to lessen the distance between herself and her friend. Being a small, short, slight, lithe woman, Dolly could pose her person anywhere. Being tall, stately, a lady "with a presence," Mrs. Werner would as soon have thought of dropping on the grass as of climbing a tree. "Do you remember Dassell?" she asked softly. "Do I remember Dassell," repeated Dolly, and her brown eyes had a far-away look in them as she answered, "You might have shaped your singular question better, Nora; ask me if I shall ever forget it, and then I shall answer you in the words of Moultrie's, 'Forget Thee,' which really does go admirably to the air of Lucy Neal; I wish you would try how well." "Dolly do be serious for five minutes, if you can. Do you never long for the old quiet life again."