Johnnie and Lucy, who had over-eaten themselves, were disposed to be quiet, the little girl leaning her fair curls and fat shining cheek against her grandmother’s shoulder with an air that looked touching, but which really indicated repletion; Johnnie sprawling on the carpet at his mother’s feet, and wishing he had not eaten _that_ mince-pie, telling himself that, on the whole, he hated mince-pie, and envying his brother Tom, who had stolen off to the saddle-room to talk to the grooms. Godolphin and Mabel having dined early, were full of exuberance, waiting to be “jumped,” which entertainment Theodore had to provide without intermission for nearly half an hour, upheaving first one and then another towards the ceiling, first a rosy bundle in ruby velvet, and then a rosy bundle in white muslin, laughing, screaming, enraptured, to be caught in his arms, and set carefully on the ground, there to await the next turn. Theodore slaved at this recreation until his arms ached, casting a furtive glance every now and then at the corner by the fireplace where his sisters were treating Juanita to the result of their latest heavy reading. At last, to his delight, Lucy recovered from her comatose condition, and began to thirst for amusement. “Let’s have magic music,” she said; “we can all play at that, Granny and all. You know you love magic music, Granny. Who’ll play the piano? Not mother, she plays so badly,” added the darling, with childlike candour. “Sophy shall play for you,” cried Theodore; “she’s a capital hand at it.” He went over to his sister. “Go and play for the children, Sophy,” he said. “I’ve been doing my duty. Go and do yours.” Sophy looked agonized, but complied; and he slipped into her vacant seat. He sat by his cousin’s side for nearly an hour, while the children, mother, and grandmother played their nursery game to the sound of dance-music, now low, now loud, neatly executed by Sophy’s accurate fingers. Their talk was of indifferent subjects, and the lion’s share of the conversation was enjoyed by Janet; but to Theodore it was bliss to be there, by his cousin’s side, within sound of her low melodious voice, within touch of her tapering hand. Just to sit there, and watch her face, and drink in the tones of her voice, was enough. He asked no more from Fate, yet awhile. He had a long talk with her in her own room next morning, before he went back to Dorchester, and the talk was of that old subject which absorbed her thoughts. “Be sure you find out all you can from my father,” she said at parting. * * * * *