He wrote in his book. His next question was— “Did you tell Mrs. Marvel why you had been dissatisfied with this girl?” “She never asked me,” answered Lucy. “She sought no character from me.” The inspector half smiled and gave his head a knowing little wag. He closed his book. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s all we need ask now. If any other point arises on which we think you may throw light, you’ll excuse our coming to you. We’re sorry to have had to disturb you, especially to-day.” “You are only doing your duty,” said Lucy. “Good morning.” As she turned back into her little hall—Clementina’s rueful countenance, gleaming pale in the background—Lucy thought that this was for her a very mild disturbance indeed, as compared with the wreckage of last Christmas Day. It might indeed be otherwise with the Marvels? Yet Lucy could not avoid the reflection that they had, in a manner, brought this trouble on themselves. The little dinner-party passed off very pleasantly. Clementina had done her part admirably, and everybody was resolutely talkative and bright. Even Lucy brought herself to say that perhaps it might be better still if Charlie arrived for New Year’s Day, since that would be an inauguration of a new order of things, while, socially considered, Christmas is rather a festival of the past. After dinner in the little drawing-room, Hugh was the centre of all attention, as children always are at Christmas time. Games of the kind in which he could take largest share were the order of the day. In one of these Tom Black was dismissed from the apartment to wait outside till those within should summon him to rack his brains to discover “what their thought was like.” When they shut him out, they left him planted on a little table, which stood on the only half-lit landing. But when they opened the door to call him, he was not there! “I believe he is so honest that he feared he might catch what we were saying, and he has gone down to his own room,” said Lucy. “Tom!” she cried. But as she did so she heard a sound of voices in the hall. Tom was there and Clementina was talking to him. He answered, “Coming, coming!” and came running up. He dashed into the game with great spirit, but nevertheless seemed a little absent-minded, and proved so dense that he had to be told what he ought to have guessed, which was very unusual with Tom. After that, Lucy suggested that they would not begin another game till they had had tea, which was just coming in. The little service stood in readiness. Clementina had only to carry up the kettle and the tea-cakes. In this interval, Tom suddenly proposed to Mr. Somerset that they should take a few minutes’ turn in the street. “For a breath of fresh air,” he said.