They did not leave Sherbrooke House that day, however. A sudden storm came on during the afternoon, too violent to admit of the departure of any one, and Lady Sherbrooke would not allow any of her guests to mention such a thing. And so the long, dreary day was spent in rest and quiet. But the next day broke bright and pleasant, and just as the company were sitting down to the morning meal, Minnie Shelton came dancing into the breakfast-room, her cheeks glowing, her eyes sparkling, and her lips parted in the brightest of smiles, while a paper fluttered in her small hands. “Such fun!” she exclaimed, merrily. “Here is a description of your ball, Lady Sherbrooke, in the Cheshire _Gazette_—the mock marriage and all; and the best of the whole thing is, they have written up that event so that at a first glance any one would naturally suppose that a real wedding had occurred. Listen.” She held up the paper and read: “MARRIED.—At the country residence of Lady Sherbrooke, on the 10th instant, Sir Archibald Sherbrooke and Lord Carrol, of Carrolton, to Miss Josephine Richards, formerly of New York, U. S. A., but recently reported to be the heiress presumptive to the Thornton estates in Devonshire. The fair bride was lovely in her bridal robes, not the least noticeable of which was the exquisite point lace vail, which was also of great value.” “There—isn’t that too rich for anything?” the gay girl cried; “and do look at the mock bride’s blushes!” pointing at Josephine, whose face was crimson from varied emotions; “what a pity it is that our handsome groom is not here to see them; and one would almost imagine she was a real bride by her confusion.” “Then there follows a long account of the ball, which explains everything,” she added, laying down the paper; “but I’m so out of breath that I can’t read any more, and you’ll have to peruse it for yourselves.” There was an awkward silence for a moment after she had ceased speaking; then Lady Sherbrooke said, in tones of grave reproof: “Minnie, my dear, what a wild child you are; but you must learn to be more thoughtful of the feelings of others.” “Why, what have I done?” she asked, with great, round, innocent eyes, yet a guilty flush rose to her cheeks. “I am very glad if you enjoyed the ball,” her ladyship continued, still gravely; “but I regret that you should have proposed turning so serious a subject as marriage into mockery, and I am very sorry—yes, deeply displeased, that any one, in writing an account of our gathering here, should have given that farce such an appearance of reality, for it might make it very awkward, not only for my son, but also for some of our guests,” she concluded, with glance at Josephine’s downcast face. Little Miss Shelton was very uneasy during this reproof, but she rallied, and said, lightly: