A month went by, and behold Mrs Wimbush and Mr. Tom Brookshank seated tete-a-tete at an evening party, where the music which was going on was sufficiently loud to render private conversation inaudible save to those to whom it was addressed. "I fear," said the widow, affecting an absent manner, "I treated you very unkindly, Mr. Tom. You took me so entirely by surprise, that, really, I--hardly know what I said. I have been very unhappy about it--very." "Forgotten and forgiven," whispered Mr. Tom. "How generous of you! you make me so glad! because now that your brother Charles is going to marry my daughter, we shall be in some sort related, and I could not bear you to think unkindly of me." "No," said Mr. Tom, fidgeting a little, "I shall never do that." "How droll!" said the widow. "Let me see, what will the relationship be? You will be my son-in-law's brother, and consequently I shall be your mother-in-law once removed. You will have a mother younger than yourself, Mr. Tom. I hope you will not presume upon her youth to be a bad boy." "All this is very true," he answered; "but I see the relationship in a far different light. I shall be your father-in-law, and consequently my own brother's grandfather-in-law." "You mistake, Mr. Tom. Don't you see that Carry--" "No mistake at all about it, ma'am, for I've promised to marry your mother, Mrs. Marrables!" "Monster!" cried Mrs. Wimbush aloud, and went off shrieking. The music stopped, and there was a great fuss. But above all the others was heard the voice of Mrs. Marrables. "Don't be alarmed, pray. She is subject to it; she went off just like that the other day at a picnic. Poor young thing, a very little upsets her. Let me come to my little gu-url, then." They moved her into another room. Presently Mrs. Wimbush opened her eyes. "Mother! how dare you come near me! Go away, do! You ought to be ashamed of yourself, at your time of life!" "My time of life! Why, I'm only fifty-four--about ten years older than Tom. How can you talk so to your mother!" "Mother, if you don't leave the room, I will. It's really disreputable to have you for a mother. You've never done me any credit." "My dear, I am so glad to think you feel well enough to leave the room that I will remain." Mrs. Wimbush got up and went home. Jilted, first for her daughter, and next for her mother! This was too much. Mrs. Wimbush went to church as regularly as any one, but revenge, after all, is very sweet. Six weeks afterward Mrs. Wimbush recovered sufficient fortitude to go and call on her mother.