As the hour of William Yorke's return from the funeral was uncertain, but expected to be a late one, it had been decided that the meal prepared should be a tea-dinner--tea and cold meats with it. Gerald was asked to remain for it. A few minutes, and they were seated in the dining-room at a well-spread board, Mrs. Channing presiding; Hamish, with his bright face, his genial hospitality, and his courtly manners, facing her. Roland and Annabel were on one side, the clergyman and Gerald on the other. Miss Nelly, on a high chair, wedged herself in between her mamma and Roland. "Treason!" cried Hamish. "Who said little girls were to be at table?" "Mamma did," answered quick Nelly. "Mamma said I should have a great piece of fowl and some tongue." "Provided you were silent, and not troublesome," put in Mrs. Channing. "I'll keep her quiet," said Roland. "Nelly shall whisper only to me." Miss Nelly's answer was to lay her pretty face close to Roland's. He left some kisses on it. Gerald sat next to Hamish and opposite to Annabel. Remembering the state of that gentleman's feelings towards Mr. Channing, it may be wondered that he condescended to accept his hospitality. Two reasons induced him to it. Any quarters were more acceptable than his own just now, and he had no invitation for the evening, even had it been decent to show himself in the great world an hour after leaving his uncle in the grave. The other reason was, that he was just now working some ill to Hamish, and, wished to appear extra friendly to avert suspicion. "I hope you have not dined, Roland," remarked Hamish, supplying him with a large plate of pigeon-pie. "Well, I have, and I've not," replied Roland, beginning upon the tempting viand. "I bought three sausage-rolls at one o'clock, down east way: it would have been my dinner but for this." Gerald flicked his delicate cambric handkerchief out of his pocket and held it for a moment to his nose, as if he were warding off some bad odour that brought disgust to him. Sausage-rolls! Whether they, or the unblushing candour of the avowal were the worst, he hardly knew. "Sausage-rolls must be delicacies!" he observed with a covert sneer. And Roland looked across. "They are not as good as pigeon-pie. But they cost only twopence apiece: and I had but sixpence with me. I have to regulate my appetite according to my means," he added with a pleasant laugh and his mouth full of crust and gravy. "Roland--as you have, in a manner touched upon the subject--I should like to ask what you think of doing," interposed William Yorke, in a condescending but kindly tone. "You seem to have no prospects whatever." "Oh I shall get along," cheerfully answered Roland with a side glance at Miss Channing. "Perhaps you'll see me in housekeeping in a year's time from this." "In housekeeping!"