When Lady Sherbrooke informed her son that she had invited Mr. Richards and his family to spend the following week with them at their country residence, and to help them make merry with a number of their friends, his face had clouded instantly, and she saw that he was not pleased with the arrangement. “Have I done anything wrong, Archie?” she asked, much disturbed. “I thought you would be pleased. They spoke of your spending several days with them when you were in America, and I supposed you would be glad to return the civility.” His lips had curled slightly when she had mentioned that they had told of his visit to Yonkers. He thought they should have preferred to keep it to themselves, rather than boast of it in order to get a return, under the circumstances. But he said nothing of this, and answered, as brightly as he could: “No, mother dear; you have done nothing wrong, and I will try and make myself as agreeable as possible to your guests. But I must confess that neither Mrs. nor Miss Richards is agreeable to me.” “Why, Archie?” “I would prefer to say nothing more just now, since they are coming to visit us. Perhaps sometime I can tell you why,” he answered, thoughtfully. “I am sorry,” Lady Sherbrooke returned, regretfully, while she studied her son’s face wistfully. “I wish I had known of this in season to have avoided anything so extremely unpleasant. But they were so profuse in their praises of you that I supposed of course that you reciprocated their friendliness.” “Never mind,” he said, lightly; “a week will not be very long. No doubt Miss Richards—who, I admit, is a very brilliant girl—will be a great addition to your party, and I would not have any little whim of mine mar it for the world.” “Archie, did you ever—” began his mother, with a startled, rueful glance at him, as it suddenly came to her that there might be a more serious reason for this than she had dreamed. But he interrupted her, with a laugh. “No, mother; I never did,” he said, with an amused gleam in his eyes. “And now ask me nothing more at present, please; but when your guests are all gone, I have a little story for your ear, and shall want a share of sympathy and counsel from your wise head and great heart.” Cheshire House, situated about a dozen miles out from London, and so called because it overlooked a little village which, at that time, bore that name, was filled to overflowing during the following week, and everybody appeared to anticipate a season of intense enjoyment. We cannot follow the gay company in all their enjoyments, but it was an eventful time, during which the hospitable hostess and her lovely daughter, assisted by Lord Carrol, spared no effort to make it a memorable one; and when, right in the midst of it all, Ralph Meredith came by special invitation, one, at least, of that merry number felt that everything was complete, and nothing more to be wished for. The last night of their stay there had been set apart for a great time.