Then he went through a brief interview with Mr. Thompson, asking for Monday's absence, and uncomfortably begging an advance of salary to pay for the journey. Had it not been for the message to Mr. Kelly, which Felix would not give, he would have preferred to ask a loan in that direction. "Why did you not tell me yesterday?" Mr. Thompson asked kindly. He offered another day or two beyond the Tuesday, which Felix declined, and he advanced the needful amount without hesitation. Nan was the first to descry Felix's approach, before early dinner. She rushed out to meet him, blushing all over her plain face. "Oh, we were so sorry you couldn't get here sooner," she cried. "It is such a dreadful disappointment to Lettice. And we are depending on you to put things right. Dr. Bryant can't come, after all—he has a cold or something—and Lettice is bent on going off to him this week: and we want to keep her here another month. Do, do please persuade her to stay." "Nan!" a reproving voice said behind. And gentle Mrs. Valentine came forward; whereupon Nan subsided and vanished. Felix had listened with an air of rigid reserve to Nan's outburst, attempting no response, and he met Mrs. Valentine's kind greeting in the same manner. Dinner would be ready in a few minutes, she said: and after that—But would Mr. Anderson like to see Lettice at once? Up in her room. She had not come down yet. "I would rather wait," Felix answered. And strange though the delay might seem to Mrs. Valentine, she had learnt the rare art of letting people be unhappy in their own way. She could believe that he dreaded anything which might cause him to lose his self-control before the sad ceremony near at hand: though she had never seen any one less likely in appearance to break-down, than this good-looking young fellow, with his confident and reserved air. Dinner was a constrained meal, well over in everybody's opinion. A note from Dr. Bryant was given to Felix, which he read and pocketed without remark. Then followed the last sad office for "Sissie," and Felix comported himself as chief mourner, with a composure which might easily have been mistaken for lack of feeling. When they returned to the house, Prue asked, "Will you not see Lettice now?" and Felix acquiesced. He followed Prue upstairs, and found himself alone with a quiet pallid girl in deep mourning, who met and kissed him, then sat down, visibly trembling. "So you haven't been well either, Lettice?" "No—" she said faintly. "Nothing much wrong?" "I don't know. I thought you would come—before—" "Before lunch. I couldn't. There were all those people to see. And I—well, I felt I'd better not."