And I think an inner voice of wisdom admonished her to let the matter rest and say no more; but Mrs. Coles was in a sort of malign fascination at the picture before her. Hazel was in her easy chair; Dane had brought up a little low stand before her, and sitting between her and the supper table he was taking care of both; but the care bestowed at his left hand was something the like of which was strange to see. The late Mr. Coles had never introduced his wife to anything of the kind; indeed he had been one of the men who rather expect that their wives shall wait upon them. It was not Dane was neglecting other people, or that he was making any parade whatever; on the contrary, he was fully attentive to every want of everybody, and of Hazel he was only taking care; yet it was a sort of care and given in a manner that put miles and miles between her and all other women. I suppose Mrs. Coles felt herself somehow out in the cold, for it was certainly with a little spice of irritation that she opened her lips the next time she spoke. 'But Dane,' with an uneasy little laugh, 'I really think you are to blame, to allow this little lady—so very young a lady as she is—to run about alone at night in this way. I have really been anxious. I thought you would be a better guardian, when you had the keys once safe.' 'Will you have some salad, Prudentia?' 'Salad?—O no, my dear! I think it is very unwholesome.' 'Take some ice.'— A turn, or at least a check, was given to the conversation. Mrs. Coles could not refuse the ice. Primrose would eat no supper, and was evidently longing to get her sister away. Rollo cut for Hazel a slice of game. 'But Dane,' said Mrs. Coles presently, 'don't you think it is very imprudent to eat such heavy things late at night? Coffee and salad, and game? This ice is delicious.' 'So is the salad,' said Dane. 'Will you have a bit of the pheasant, Prudentia?' 'My dear! no. I don't see how you reconcile it with your new principles, either, to have such suppers.' Rollo's eye had a flash of laughter in it as it went to Wych Hazel. He asked gravely, 'Why not?' 'Mr. Rollo and I have agreed about partridges,'—said Hazel, in whom also fun was beginning to stir, though her eyes kept a far-off look now and then. 'Agreed about partridges!' repeated Mrs. Coles. 'Yes,' said Dane. 'You had better take some, Prudentia. Rosy,—a little bit with some bread would not hurt you.' 'But the expense, Dane!' 'Yes. What about it?' 'The expense must be fearful of such a supper—in such a house as this.' 'A man who wants his horse to do him good service never asks about the price of oats.' 'Dane!' said Mrs. Coles laughing and bridling, 'do you mean to compare your wife to your horse?'