The reader may imagine that Ralph Newton was hardly ready with his answer. There are men, no doubt, who in such an emergency would have been able to damn the breeches-maker's impudence, and to have walked at once out of the house. But our young friend felt no inclination to punish his host in such fashion as this. He simply remarked that he would think of it, the matter being too grave for immediate decision, and that he would join the ladies. "Do, Mr. Newton," said Mr. Neefit; "go and join Polly. You'll find she's all I tell you. I'll sit here and have a pipe." Ralph did join the ladies; and, finding Mrs. Neefit asleep, he induced Polly to take a walk with him amidst the lanes of Hendon. When he left Alexandrina Cottage in the evening, Mr. Neefit whispered a word into his ear at the gate. "You know my mind. Strike while the iron's hot. There she is,--just what you see her." CHAPTER VII. YOU ARE ONE OF US NOW. The first week after Mary Bonner's arrival at Popham Villa went by without much to make it remarkable, except the strangeness arising from the coming of a stranger. Sir Thomas did stay at home on that Sunday, but when the time came for going to morning church, shuffled out of that disagreeable duty in a manner that was satisfactory neither to himself nor his daughters. "Oh, papa; I thought you would have gone with us!" said Patience at the last moment. "I think not to-day, my dear," he said, with that sort of smile which betokens inward uneasiness. Patience reproached him with a look, and then the three girls went off together. Even Patience herself had offered to excuse Mary, on the score of fatigue, seasickness, and the like; but Mary altogether declined to be excused. She was neither fatigued, she said, nor sick; and of course she would go to church. Sir Thomas stayed at home, and thought about himself. How could he go to church when he knew that he could neither listen to the sermon nor join in the prayers? "I suppose people do," he said to himself; "but I can't. I'd go to church all day long, if I found that it would serve me." He went up to London on the Monday, and returned to the villa to dinner. He did the same on the Tuesday. On the Wednesday he remained in London. On the Thursday he came home, but dined in town. After that he found himself to be on sufficiently familiar terms with his niece to fall back into his old habits of life. Patience was very slow in speaking to their cousin of her father's peculiarities; but Clarissa soon told the tale. "You'll get to know papa soon," she said. "He has been so kind to me." "He is very good; but you must know, dear, that we are the most deserted and disconsolate ladies that ever lived out of a poem. Papa has been home now four days together; but that is for your beaux yeux. We are here for weeks together without seeing him;--very often for more than a week." "Where does he go?"