Mr. and Mrs. Bernard and Mr. Wiley were added to the dinner-party at Fairfield that evening, and Lady Latimer gave Miss Fairfax a quiet reminder that she might have to be on her guard, for the rector was as deficient in tact as ever. And so he proved. He first announced that the fever had broken out again at Littlemire and Marsh-End, after the shortest lull he recollected, thus taking away Mr. Logger's present appetite, and causing him to flee from the Forest the first thing in the morning. Then he condoled with Mrs. Bernard on a mishap to her child that other people avoided speaking of, for the consequences were likely to be very serious, and she had not yet been made fully aware of them. There was a peculiar, low, lugubrious note in his voice which caused it to be audible through the room, and Bessie, who sat opposite to him, between Mr. Cecil Burleigh and Mr. Logger, devoted all her conversation to them to avoid that of the rector. But he had taken note of her at the moment of his entrance, and though the opportunity of remark had not been afforded him, he soon made it, beginning with inquiries after her grandfather. Then he reverted to Mr. Fairfax's visit to Beechhurst four years ago, and spoke in a congratulatory, patronizing manner that was peculiarly annoying to Bessie: "There is a difference between now and then--eh, Bessie? Mrs. Wiley and I have often smiled at one naive little speech of yours--about a nest-egg that was saving up for a certain event that young ladies look forward to. It must be considerably grown by now, that nest-egg. You remember, I see." Anybody might see that Bessie remembered; not her face only, but her neck, her very arms, burned. "Secrets are not to be told out of the confessional," said Mr. Bernard. "Miss Fairfax, you blush unseen by me." There was a general low ripple of laughter, and everybody began to talk at once, to cover the young lady's palpable confusion. Afterward, Lady Latimer, who had been amused, begged to know what that mysterious nest-egg might be. Bessie hesitated. "Tell us, _do_ tell us," urged Dora and Mrs. Bernard; so Bessie told them. She had to mention the schemes for sending her to the Hampton Training School and Madame Michaud's millinery shop by way of making her story clear, and then Lady Latimer rather regretted that curiosity had prevailed, and manifested her regret by saying that Mr. Wiley was one of the most awkward and unsafe guests she ever invited to her table. "I should have asked him to meet Mr. Harry Musgrave last night, but he would have been certain to make some remark or inquiry that would have hurt the young man's feelings or put him out of countenance." "Oh no," said Bessie with a beautiful blushing light in her face, "Harry is above that. He has made his own place, and holds it with perfect ease and simplicity. I see no gentleman who is his better."