Just then a loud burst of angry voices came from one of the card-tables. It was eleven o'clock; there had been refreshments; the room was very hot, and the play, for ladies, high; and now the voice of the Master of the Ceremonies was heard in protest. "Ladies--ladies--I beg--I must request--" "Order my carriage directly, Sir Matthew. It serves me right for coming to such a place," cried Lady Drelincourt. "Yes; you had no business here," cried Mrs Barclay. "And mixing with such low people," cried Lady Drelincourt. "Low people? Better be low than not honest." "Oh! oh!--Denville, are you going to allow this insult to my face--from such a woman as that?" cried Lady Drelincourt. "Hush, ladies! Pray--pray!" cried Denville. "Hold your tongue and come away, old lady," said Barclay, in a croaking whisper. "I won't, Jo-si-ah; not till she pays me my four guineas, I declare," cried Mrs Barclay aloud. "She's been doing nothing but cheat and rook ever since I sat down to play." "Sir Matthew Bray, my carriage." "And gone on shameful, and pretending it was all mistakes. I declare it's abominable." "Ladies--ladies!" "Will you be quiet, old girl? Hold your tongue." "I will not, Josiah," cried Mrs Barclay, who, like many good-tempered, amiable women, took a great deal to make her angry, but when she was really excited, was not to be suppressed. "What I say is--" "Oh--oh--oh--oh!" A series of wild, hysterical cries from a couch in the front room, and Claire ran gladly from the painful scene to where her sister was in a violent hysterical fit, which, with the exit of Lady Drelincourt on Sir Matthew Bray's arm, after a withering glance round, quite stopped Mrs Barclay's vituperative attack. "Think of that now," cried the latter lady. "Me again. I ought not to come out." "That you oughtn't," growled Barclay. "Next thing will be you've lost that bracelet." "Nonsense, Josiah. Let me help you, Claire dear. I am so sorry, but that wretched cheating old woman was either kicking me under the table in mistake for that Sir Matthew Bray, or else cheating. I am so--so sorry. It's 'sterricks, that's what it is." "Yes, that's what it is," said Mrs Dean; "and if I might say a word, I should tell Mr Denville that he couldn't do better than behave like Lady Macbeth." "Oh, mother!" whispered Cora impatiently. "Now what's the good of you `oh mothering' me, my dear? What could be better than for Mr Denville to say to his guests, `Don't be on the order of your going, but go at once'?" "Miss Dean," said Sir Harry, "your mamma speaks the words of wisdom. It is the wisest thing. Come, gentlemen, we can be of no service here. By Jove, she does it to perfection."