“It was about everything,” said Mrs. Kington, laughing at the recollection. “He is so delightfully wild, and such a democrat, and so unconventional.” “Too much so, a great deal, for the comfort of his family,” said Letitia, with a gasp. She was clever enough to seize upon the chance thus afforded her. “It is not so amusing when the person belongs to you, and when you know how he has thrown away all his chances,” she said, panting. “Ah!” said Lady Witheringham, with sympathy, “young men are so silly; but none of us can throw a stone in that respect.” This, though Letitia did not know it, was as good as a bombshell to Mrs. Kington, who knew a great deal about prodigals. “To be silly is one thing and to be amusing is another,” said that lady, “every man is not such fun who sows wild oats abroad. You must make him tell you about the black fellows. I nearly died of laughing. There is one story I must tell you----” “For my part I would rather not die of laughing,” said the great lady. She took Letitia by the arm and drew her in the direction of the conservatory. “Let me see your flowers,” she said, “and never mind what they say. I know what it is,” she added, shaking her head, “to have a boy in the family that you can make nothing of. I sympathize with your parents, Mrs. Parke.” The emergency lent a cleverness which she did not possess to Letitia. She said with a half sob, “He had no mother.” This was not a loss which she had ever been specially moved by before; but necessity develops the faculties. Lady Witheringham clasped her arm still more closely. “Ah, poor boy!” she said; “tell me if it does not pain you, dear Mrs. Parke.” Dear Mrs. Parke! the words inspired Letitia. Was it possible, she asked herself piously, that good was to come out of evil? and she did tell Ralph’s history, with many details unknown to that gentleman himself, to her sympathetic listener. They walked about softly in front of the subdued lights in the conservatory, the old great lady leaning tenderly upon the arm of John Parke’s wife, whom his other guests were describing to each other as a nobody. “He’s not a gentleman at all, and I daresay she was a milliner,” Mrs. Kington said, feeling it very piquant to communicate these conjectures all but within hearing of the person most concerned. And Letitia divined but now did not care, for had she not got Lady Witheringham on her side?