Mrs Latrobe appraised Lady Betty by means of one rapid glance. Then she thanked her with an amount of effulgence which betrayed either subservience or contempt. Lady Betty received her thanks with a quiet dignity which refused to be ruffled, kissed Rhoda and Phoebe, and took her leave, declining to remain even for the customary dish of tea. Mrs Latrobe drew off her gloves, sat down in Madam's cushioned chair, and desired Phoebe to give her some tea. "Let me see, child!" she said, looking at Rhoda. "You are near one-and-twenty, I suppose?" Rhoda admitted the fact. "And what do you think of doing?" Rhoda looked blankly first at her aunt, then at her cousin. Phoebe came hastily to the rescue. "She is shortly to be married, Mother; did you forget?" "Ah!" said Mrs Latrobe, still contemplating Rhoda. "Well--if it hold-- you may as well be married from hence, I suppose. Is the day fixed?" "No, Aunt Anne." "I think, my dear," remarked Mrs Latrobe, sipping her tea, "'twould be better if you said Madam.--Why, Phoebe, what old-fashioned china! Sure it cannot have been new these forty years. I shall sweep away all that rubbish.--Whom are you going to marry? Is he well off?--Phoebe, those shoe-buckles of yours are quite shabby. I cannot have you wear such trumpery. You must remember what is due to you.--Well, my dear?" Rhoda had much less practice in the school of patience than Phoebe, and she found the virtue difficult just then. But she restrained herself as well as she could. "I am engaged in marriage with Mr Marcus Welles; and he has an estate, and spends three thousand pounds by the year." "Welles! A Welles of Buckinghamshire?" "His estate is in this shire," said Rhoda. "Three thousand! That's not much. Could you have done no better? He expected you would have White-Ladies, I suppose?" "I suppose so. I did," said Rhoda, shortly. "My dear, you have some bad habits," said Mrs Latrobe, "which Phoebe should have broken you of before I came. 'Tis very rude to answer without giving a name." "You told me not to give you one, Aunt Anne." "You are slow at catching meanings, my dear," replied Mrs Latrobe, with that calm nonchalance so provoking to an angry person. "I desired you to call me Madam, as 'tis proper you should." "Phoebe doesn't," burst from Rhoda. "Then she ought," answered Mrs Latrobe, coolly examining the crest on a tea-spoon. "Oh, I will, Rhoda, if Mother wishes it," put in Phoebe, anxious above all things to keep the peace. Rhoda vouchsafed no reply to either. "Well!" said the lady of the manor, rising, "you will carry me to my chamber, child," addressing Rhoda. "You can stay here, Phoebe. Your cousin will wait on me." It was something new for Rhoda to wait on anyone. She swallowed her pride with the best grace she could, and turned to open the door. "I suppose you have had the best room made ready for me?" inquired Mrs Latrobe, as she passed out. "Madam's chamber," replied Rhoda.