"As Reginald grows older, he will grow steadier," remarked Maria. "And, mamma, whatever it may be, your grieving over it will not mend it." "True," replied Mrs. Hastings. "But," she added, with a sad smile, "when your children shall be as old as mine, Maria, you will have learnt how impossible it is to a mother not to grieve. Have you forgotten the old saying? 'When our children are young they tread upon our toes; but when they are older they tread upon our hearts.'" Little Miss Meta was treading upon her toes, just then. The child's tiny shoes were dancing upon grandmamma's in her eagerness to get close to her; to tell her that Donatan was going to give her a great big handful of roses, as soon as they were out, with the thorns cut off. "Come to me, Meta," said Maria. She saw that her mamma was not in a mood to be troubled with children, and she drew the child on to her own knee. "Mamma, I am going for a drive presently," she continued. "Would it not do you good to accompany me?" "I don't know that I could spare the time this morning," said Mrs. Hastings. "Are you going far?" "I can go far or not, as you please," replied Maria. "We have a new carriage, and George told me at breakfast that I had better try it, and see how I liked it." "A new carriage!" replied Mrs. Hastings, her accent betraying surprise. "Had you not enough carriages already, Maria?" "In truth, I think we had, mamma. This new one is one that George took a fancy to when he was in London last week; and he bought it." "Child--though of course it is no business of mine--you surely did not want it. What sort of carriage is it?" "It is a large one: a sort of barouche. It will do you good to go out with me. I will order it at once, if you will do so, mamma." Mrs. Hastings did not immediately reply. She appeared to have fallen into thought. Presently she raised her head and looked at Maria. "My dear, I have long thought of mentioning to you a certain subject; and I think I will do so now. Strictly speaking, it is, as I say, no business of mine, but I cannot help being anxious for your interests." Maria felt somewhat alarmed. It appeared a formidable preamble. "I and your papa sometimes talk it over, one with another. And we say"--Mrs. Hastings smiled, as if to disarm her words of their serious import--"that we wish we could put old heads upon young shoulders. Upon yours and your husband's." "But why?--in what way?" cried Maria. "My dear, if you and he had old heads, you would, I think, see how very wrong it is--I speak the word only in your interests, Maria--to maintain so great and expensive an establishment. It must cost you and George, here, far more than it costs them at Ashlydyat." "Yes, I suppose it does," said Maria. "We do not know what your husband's income is----"