“They will not be behind time, you may depend on it,” laughed Dick. “We shall be able to get off by ten o’clock, and get into the Abbey by a quarter past. It will take us at least three hours to do Westminster, which will bring one o’clock or a little later, when we can get lunch at Simmon’s, in Threadneedle Street,—an old-established house, celebrated for its green turtle and its punch this century past. After which we will still have time to see St. Paul’s, and to get home in season for our five o’clock dinner.” “And remember, Dick, that we must not be later, for we have a box this evening at Drury Lane, to see the Keans.” “All right, Anna! we are not likely to forget that.” “And let us see! what is the programme for to-morrow?” inquired the General. “I do not think that has been arranged yet,” said Drusilla. “Then let it be the British Museum and the Royal Academy.” “Oh, no, grandpa! We must go to Windsor to-morrow; and I’ll tell you why. It will take a whole day and night to go to Windsor, see it all, and return. And to-morrow is the only whole day we have at our disposal. For on Thursday we are engaged to dinner at Lord Esteppe’s, and to a concert at Mrs. Marcourt’s. On Friday we are to breakfast with the Warrens and to go to a ball at our Minister’s; and on Saturday we are promised to the Whartons for their fête at Richmond. Now out of either of these days we might take a few hours to see any London sights; but for Windsor we must have an unbroken day, and to-morrow is the only one of this week, or of next week either for that matter, left at our disposal.” “That is very true, my dear. Bless my soul, how we are crowded with engagements! It is very flattering, of course, and very pleasant, I suppose; but—it is just a little harassing also. Dick, have you ordered a barouche?” “No, sir; but I have finished breakfast, and if you will excuse me I will go and do so now; or, rather, I mean I will walk around to the livery stable and choose a good one myself,” answered Mr. Hammond, rising from the table and leaving the room. With an excuse for her absence, Anna followed him. As the General was still toying with his breakfast, Drusilla lingered to keep him company. The waiter had retired and the two were alone, a circumstance so unusual, and so unlikely to happen again, that Drusilla thought this to be her best opportunity for consulting him upon the difficulty that now perplexed her mind. So while the old gentleman sat trifling with a delicate section of his fried sole, Drusilla abruptly entered upon the subject: “Uncle, we are all invited to a great many places; and we have accepted all the invitations. But before I go to any party I would like to have a talk with you.” “Well, my dear, talk away! what is it about?” inquired the old man, somewhat surprised by the gravity of her manner. “Uncle, is it quite right that I, a forsaken wife, should go so much into the world?”