As Miss Carden entered, on Mr. Raby's arm, her eye swept the room with complacency, and settled on the holly-tree. At sight of that she pinched Mr. Raby's arm, and cried “Oh!” three times. Then, ignoring the dinner-table altogether, she pulled her host away to the tree, and stood before it, with clasped hands. “Oh, how beautiful!” Mr. Raby was gratified. “So then our forefathers were not quite such fools as some people say.” “They were angels, they were ducks. It is beautiful, it is divine.” Mr. Raby looked at the glowing cheek, and deep, sparkling, sapphire eye. “Come,” said he; “after all, there's nothing here so beautiful as the young lady who now honors the place with her presence.” With this he handed her ceremoniously to a place at his right hand; said a short grace, and sat down between his two guests. “But, Mr. Raby,” said Grace, ruefully, “I'm with my back to the holly-tree.” “You can ask Coventry to change places.” Mr. Coventry rose, and the change was effected. “Well, it is your doing, Coventry. Now she'll overlook YOU.” “All the better for me, perhaps. I'm content: Miss Carden will look at the holly, and I shall look at Miss Carden.” “Faute de mieux.” “C'est mechant.” “And I shall fine you both a bumper of champagne, for going out of the English language.” “I shall take my punishment like a man.” “Then take mine as well. Champagne with me means frenzy.” But, in the midst of the easy banter and jocose airy nothings of the modern dining-room, an object attracted Grace's eye. It was a picture, with its face turned to the wall, and some large letters on the back of the canvas. This excited Grace's curiosity directly, and, whenever she could, without being observed, she peeped, and tried to read the inscription; but, what with Mr. Raby's head, and a monster candle that stood before it, she could not decipher it unobserved. She was inclined to ask Mr. Raby; but she was very quick, and, observing that the other portraits were of his family, she suspected at once that the original of this picture had offended her host, and that it would be in bad taste, and might be offensive, to question him. Still the subject took possession of her. At about eight o'clock a servant announced candles in the drawing-room. Upon this Mr. Raby rose, and, without giving her any option on the matter, handed her to the door with obsolete deference. In the drawing-room she found a harpsichord, a spinet, and a piano, all tuned expressly for her. This amused her, as she had never seen either of the two older instruments in her life. She played on them all three. Mr. Raby had the doors thrown open to hear her. She played some pretty little things from Mendelssohn, Spohr, and Schubert. The gentlemen smoked and praised. Then she found an old music-book, and played Hamlet's overture to Otho, and the minuet.