"I have come to show you this list, papa," said Patience. Sir Thomas took the list, and found that it contained various articles for bedroom and kitchen use,--towels, sheets, pots and pans, knives and forks, and even a set of curtains and a carpet. "I shouldn't have thought that a girl of eighteen would have wanted all these things,--a new corkscrew, for instance,--but if she does, as I told you before, you must get them." "Of course they are not all for Mary," said Patience. "The fact is, papa," said Clarissa, "you never do look to see how things are getting worn out." "Clarissa!" exclaimed the angry father. "Indeed, papa, if you were more at home and saw these things," began Patience-- "I have no doubt it is all right. Get what you want. Go to Barlow's and to Green's, and to Block and Blowhard. Don't let there be any bills, that's all. I will give you cheques when you get the accounts. And now, my dears,--I am in the middle of work which will not bear interruption." Then they left him, and when he did come to the villa on the evening before his journey, most of the new articles,--including the corkscrew,--were already in the house. CHAPTER III. WHAT HAPPENED ON THE LAWN AT POPHAM VILLA. Sir Thomas started for Southampton on a Friday, having understood that the steamer from St. Thomas would reach the harbour on Saturday morning. He would then immediately bring Mary Bonner up to London and down to Fulham;--and there certainly had come to be a tacit understanding that he would stay at home on the following Sunday. On the Friday evening the girls were alone at the villa; but there was nothing in this, as it was the life to which they were accustomed. They habitually dined at two, calling the meal lunch,--then had a five or six o'clock tea,--and omitted altogether the ceremony of dinner. They had local acquaintances, with whom occasionally they would spend their evenings; and now and then an old maid or two,--now and then also a young maid or two would drop in on them. But it was their habit to be alone. During these days of which we are speaking Clarissa would take her "Faery Queen," and would work hard perhaps for half an hour. Then the "Faery Queen" would be changed for a novel, and she would look up from her book to see whether Patience had turned upon her any glance of reprobation. Patience, in the meantime, would sit with unsullied conscience at her work. And so the evenings would glide by; and in these soft summer days the girls would sit out upon the lawn, and would watch the boats of London watermen as they passed up and down below the bridge. On this very evening, the last on which they were to be together before the arrival of their cousin,--Patience came out upon the lawn with her hat and gloves. "I am going across to Miss Spooner's," she said; "will you come?" But Clarissa was idle, and making some little joke, not very much to the honour of Miss Spooner, declared that she was