Jane began lighting up and stealing glances full of admiration as she handled match after match slowly, every glance affording her satisfaction, especially when the hood of the cloak Molly wore was thrown back and the girl gave her a pleasant, admiring smile, and showed a pair of laughing eyes and a set of pearly teeth. "Why, it's master's biking young lady," said Jane to herself, in astonishment. "There'll be a row after this." "Where's auntie, Jane?" said Syd, suddenly. "Not come back from Tilborough yet, sir," replied the girl, snappishly. Sir Hilton, who was still walking up and down, turned sharply at the words "auntie" and "Tilborough"; but he said nothing, only passed his hand in a fidgety way over his forehead and continued his wild-beast-like walk, muttering every now and then to himself, till he stopped suddenly close to the young couple, who were whispering together. "Tackle him directly he comes in, pet," Syd was saying. "But dad's so obstinate, Syd. You give him a good talking-to. Don't be afraid." "I'm not--not a bit; but I don't want to have a row just at present." "But it's got to be done, Syd dear. You have a good go at dad. Tell him it's of no use for him to kick, and he must make the best of it." "Yes, yes, I will, pet; but in the middle of the night like this? I want to get uncle to bed. He's very queer yet." "Yes, he does look groggy," said the girl, innocently; "but you needn't be in such a hurry to get rid of me now I am here." "I am not, darling. I should like to keep you here--always; only uncle isn't fit to talk to yet." "He does look dazy. I say, Syd, he does understand that we are married?" "No, pet, he hasn't an idea." "What a shame!" cried the girl. "You said you'd tell him at once." "Look at him! What's the good of telling him now, when every word would roll off him like water from a duck's back, and not one go in?" "I don't know; try. If you don't, I shall. There, I will," cried the girl, and starting up before Syd could stop her, she planted herself theatrically before Sir Hilton, and with an arch look, and her eyes twinkling, she laid a hand upon the baronet's arm, saying-- "Please, Sir Hilton, shall I do?" He stared at her wonderingly for some moments. "Eh?" he said. "Do? Who is it?" "Miss Simpkins, Sir Hilton. You know--La Sylphide." Sir Hilton laid his left hand upon his forehead, and gazed at the girl thoughtfully. "La Sylphide?" he said at last. "Did she win?" "Yes, Sir Hilton, by three lengths," cried the girl, eagerly; "but, please, don't you know me?" "No," said Sir Hilton, shaking his head. "No." "There, I told you so," whispered Syd. "He's quite off his nut." "But I'm your niece, Sir Hilton," persisted the girl, pressing up to him, as if asking for an avuncular kiss; "and I'm Mrs Sydney Smithers."