Lieutenant Seymour was instantly placed at ease by this episode, but Mrs. Gwynn experienced a vague disquietude because of the genuine surprise that expressed itself in Mildred Fisher's face as that comprehensive feminine glance of instantaneous appraisement of attire took account of her whole costume. Leonora had not reckoned on this development when, in that sudden revulsion of feeling, she had discarded the fictitious semblance of mourning for the villain who had been the curse of her life. The momentary glance passed as if it had not been, but she could not at once rid herself of a sense of disadvantage. She knew that to others as well the change must seem strange--yet, why should it? All knew that her widow's weeds had been but an empty form--what significance could the fact possess that they were worn for a time as a concession to convention, then laid aside? She could not long lend herself, however, to the absorption of reflection. The present was strenuous. Miss Fisher was bent on investing Lieutenant Seymour with the thimble and requiring him to thread a needle for himself, while she soberly and with despatch basted a towel which she destined him to hem. The comedy relief that these arrangements afforded to the serious business of the day was very indulgently regarded, and her bursts of silvery laughter and the young officer's frantic pleas for mercy--utterly futile, as all who knew Millie Fisher foresaw they must be--brought a smile to grave faces and relaxed the tension of the situation, placing the unwelcome presence of the unasked visitor in the category of one of Millie Fisher's many freaks. Seymour had a very limited sense of humor and could not endure to be made ridiculous, even to gladden so merry a lady-love; but when she declared that she would transfer the whole paraphernalia--thimble, needle, towel, and all--to Captain Baynell, and let him do the hemming, Seymour, all unaware of the secret amusement his sudden consent afforded the company, showed that he preferred that she should make him ludicrous rather than compliment another man by her mirthful ridicule. "Now, there you go! Hurrah! Make haste! Not such a big stitch! Now, Mr. Seymour, let me tell you, Hercules with the distaff was not a circumstance to you!" And the Sewing-Circle could but laugh.