THE travellers were expected to arrive at about seven o’clock in the evening, and in accordance with a well-known taste of Eleanor’s, Emily had ordered no dinner, but a substantial meal under the name of tea. When the sound of carriage wheels was heard, Jane was with Adeline, Maurice was in his retreat at the Old Court, and it was with no cheerful alacrity that Emily went alone into the hall. Phyllis was already at the front door, and the instant Mr. Mohun set foot on the threshold, her hand grasped his coat, and her shrill voice cried in his ear, ‘Papa, I am very sorry I blew up the gunpowder and burnt Ada.’ ‘What, my dear? where is Ada?’ ‘In bed. I blew up the gunpowder and burnt her face,’ repeated Phyllis. ‘We have had an accident,’ said Emily, ‘but I hope it is nothing very serious, only poor Ada is a sad figure.’ In another moment Mr. Mohun and Eleanor were on the way to the nursery; Lilias was following, but she recollected that a general rush into a sickroom was not desirable, and therefore paused and came back to the hall. The worst was over with Phyllis when the confession had been made. She was in raptures at the sight of the baby, and was presently showing the nurse the way upstairs, but her brother William called her back: ‘Phyllis, you have not spoken to any one.’ Phyllis turned, and came down slowly in her most ungainly manner, believing herself in too great disgrace to be noticed by anybody, and she was quite surprised and comforted to be greeted by her brothers and Lily just as usual. ‘And how did you meet with this misfortune?’ asked Mr. Hawkesworth. ‘I banged the door, and made it go off,’ said Phyllis. ‘What can you mean?’ said William, in a tone of surprise, which Phyllis took for anger, and she hid her face to stifle her sobs. ‘No, no, do not frighten her,’ said Claude’s kind voice. ‘Run and make friends with your nephew, Phyllis,’ said Mr. Hawkesworth; ‘do not greet us with crying.’ ‘First tell me what is become of Maurice,’ said Claude, ‘is he blown up too?’ ‘No, he is at the Old Court,’ said Phyllis. ‘Shall I tell him that you are come?’ ‘I will look for him,’ said Claude, and out he went. The others dispersed in different directions, and did not assemble again for nearly half an hour, when they all met in the drawing-room to drink tea; Claude and Maurice were the last to appear, and, on entering, the first thing the former said was, ‘Where is Phyllis?’ ‘In the nursery,’ said Jane; ‘she has had her supper, and chooses to stay with Ada.’ ‘Has any one found out the history of the accident?’ said William. ‘I have vainly been trying to make sense of Maurice’s account,’ said Claude. ‘Sense!’ said William, ‘there is none.’ ‘I am perfectly bewildered,’ said Lily; ‘every one has a different story, only consenting in making Phyllis the victim.’ ‘And,’ added Claude, ‘I strongly suspect she is not in fault.’ ‘Why should you doubt what she says herself?’ said Eleanor.