"Long enough for all we had to say," said Prue pettishly. "Do you suppose we were exchanging vows of eternal fidelity, or arranging for our next meeting?" Then, pathetically, "If you were as tired as I am, Peggie, you would rather be in bed than gossiping, and to-morrow we are going to Lady Limerick’s drum, and the play afterward, and want to look our prettiest; so kiss me, dear coz, and get thee to bed." Nor was she more communicative the next day. From early morning, the house was besieged by a procession of apologetic tradesfolk, eager to explain away their threatening letters and dunning messages, and placing themselves and their wares at the disposal of the reinstated favorite. No talk now of the Fleet and the sponging-house—no more writs and suits—nothing but dapper tailors and coquettish milliners’ assistants, suave jewelers and mysterious, ill-shaven foreigners with dirty parcels from which they extracted, under vows of secrecy, laces from France or Flanders, or embroideries from the distant Indies, such as might have tempted the most austere of Eve’s daughters to break at least one of the ten commandments. And in the midst of all this excitement, Lady Prue flitted, bubbling over with mirth and triumph. Her bright presence lighted up the sick-room, and under its influence, Lady Drumloch declared she would be carried down-stairs on Sunday to receive callers, and that before a week was over, she would be strong enough to drive to Kensington Palace and pay her respects at the queen’s next drawing-room. She bade Peggie fetch her jewel-casket and try the effect of her antiquated diadems and brooches upon herself and Prue, and spent an hour or two deciding which of them the emeralds would best become, and which one ought to have the amethysts. Finally, however, the matter was left undecided, and except that she bestowed the promised pearls upon Prue and a filagree bracelet upon Margaret, the casket was relentlessly restored intact to its hiding-place. All day long, Peggie watched her cousin, without being able to detect the faintest sign of compunction, or even recollection of the folly of yesterday and the tragedy that would crown it in a few hours. At Lady Limerick’s drum, she led the scandal and laughter, as of old, and at the play, sat in her modest little box with Margaret beside her, and an ever-changing crowd of beaux behind her chair. Sir Geoffrey came late, and had scarcely time to greet her, when a message called her to the Duchess of Marlborough, in whose box she spent the rest of the evening. He did not venture to follow there, uninvited, so it was not until the play was over that he found an opportunity to address her. He was waiting at the carriage door to hand her in, and without giving her time to object, followed and took his seat beside her. "Do you not see my cousin sitting with her back to the horses?" inquired Prue, in the most freezing tone, as she drew herself as far as possible from him.