“And a very charming, old-fashioned town it is,” said her ladyship; “and some of the people, whose acquaintance I made there”—with a significant glance at Ethel—“I found to be quite as nice as the place.” At this moment Trant entered the room with the announcement that dinner was served. “That’s all very well,” said Sir Gilbert testily, “but what has become of my grandson? Where is Mr. Lewis? Send up to his room at once, Trant, and tell him that dinner is waiting.” Then turning to Lady Pell, he added: “I hate unpunctuality, especially at meal-times. It would serve the young dog right to make him go without his dinner.” “Is he often behind time?” queried her ladyship. “No, I can’t say that he is. He knows that I wouldn’t put up with it.” “Then you can afford, for once in a way, to overlook his remissness. Besides, it would be unfair to blame him before hearing what he may have to say for himself.” “Oh, he’ll have some plausible excuse or other, I don’t doubt,” growled Sir Gilbert. “You would be clever to catch him without one.” Trant reappeared. “Mr. Lewis is not in his room, Sir Gilbert. It seems that he left the house about ten o’clock, and has not been seen since.” Sir Gilbert’s eyebrows came together in a frown. Then he shook himself, and forcing a smile, said: “In that case there is no need to wait. Perhaps they have persuaded him to stay and dine at the vicarage, although, when that has been the case before, he has always sent me word.” With that he offered his arm to Lady Pell and Everard did the same to Miss Thursby. When dinner was over there was no sitting out of doors as on the preceding evening. In the drawing-room, the lighted lamps, the drawn curtains and the wood fire, served as so many reminders of the dying year. This evening, out of compliment to her ladyship, Sir Gilbert forewent his usual game of chess. At his request Ethel played and sang for upwards of an hour, during which time it was Lisle’s happy privilege to turn over her music and hover round her generally. Between whiles Sir Gilbert and her ladyship, who were seated considerably apart from the young people, conversed in low tones. Ten o’clock struck all too soon for Everard Lisle. It was his appointed hour for leaving the Chase. When he had taken leave of the ladies, Sir Gilbert quitted the room with him. While the dog-cart was being brought round and he was inducting himself into his mackintosh, the baronet sent a servant to ascertain whether his grandson had yet reached home. No, Mr. Lewis was not in his room, neither had anyone seen him, was the word brought back. “I shall sit up for him, if it be till six o’clock in the morning,” said Sir Gilbert grimly to Lisle. With that, he nodded a curt, but not unkindly goodnight, and strode back to the drawing-room.