During the laugh that greeted this assertion Mrs. Dallington arose, and the ladies followed her into the drawing-room. Mary Wythburn sat before the organ with a book of Mendelssohn before her, and the other guests made themselves comfortable, to listen or think, as they pleased; but Margaret and Miss Whitwell sought a quiet corner for talk. “Madge, how well and happy you look.” “And I look as I am! Dear old Tom, I hope you will stay a long time now, for you do not know half the delightful things my baby can do. Your father must spare you. To have you here is just the crown to my joy.” Margaret’s dark eyes were looking full into the face of her friend. “I suppose you are quite busy again, Margaret,” asked Tom. “Yes. There is plenty of work close at hand, and, you know, Tom, we always said that the thing that was nearest was the right thing to do.” “But I am not so sure about that now as I used to be.” “Oh, you may be certain it is right in the main! We are going to have ‘At Homes’ every Saturday afternoon and evening for the youths and the girls on the farm. I want the girls to copy my home as well as my dress. We shall make them welcome, and see that they have good times—in the drawing-room in the winter, and the garden in the summer; and we hope they will be having an object-lesson all the time. I used to think this sort of thing not altogether kind, and to be afraid that after experiencing the comfort and refinement of such a home as ours they would go back to their own abodes more discontented than ever. But I am not afraid of that now, for the contrasts are not so great; they can all have comfortable homes too.” “Ah! Darentdale led the way.” “It did; and I cannot tell you how thankful I am. It used to be shameful that people were compelled to live in such utter, hopeless misery as they did only a few years ago.” “Are you going to have the youths and the girls at the same time, and together, at these ‘At Homes’ of yours?” “Certainly; why not? Were they not intended to be together?” “Your house will become a paradise of lovers, Margaret.” “I only hope it may. I promise myself all sorts of pleasures in watching my friends making the discovery that they love and are beloved. Do you know, Miss Thomasine Grace Whitwell, that there is nothing in all the world half so well worth winning and having as that?” “That? What?” “You do not need me to tell you, I am sure.” “You were always romantic, Margaret. Our friend, Mary Wythburn, does not agree with you.” “I am afraid not.” And she glanced significantly towards Mary, and Dr. Stapleton, who had been the first to join her, and who had gone at once to turn over the leaves of the music-book. “You know, Tom, we are all committed to the task of securing the greatest happiness for the greatest number; and whoever makes herself and one other individual happy is doing something towards it.”