"Why not, as well as other people in Dornton?" asked Delia. "He never goes to Waverley," said Mrs Winn. "That is by his own wish," said Delia, quickly. "He has told me about that." "Oh, indeed, by his own wish," repeated Mrs Winn, her wide open grey eyes resting thoughtfully upon Delia; "that's strange, with his grandchild staying there. However," with a parting nod, as she moved slowly out, "we shall soon see about the picnic." Delia smiled to herself as she watched her visitor's portly form out of sight. How very little it would matter to the Professor whether the Palmers sent him an invitation or not! He would not even notice the absence of one. He had never cultivated the habit of feeling himself injured, and was happily placed far above the miseries of fancied slights and neglect. Nevertheless she resented, as she always did, the tone of condescension with which Mrs Winn had mentioned him, and returned to the drawing-room with a ruffled brow and a vexed spirit. Mrs Hunt still slumbered peacefully, quite undisturbed by the little agitations of Dornton. As her daughter entered, she gently opened her eyes. "Del, my love," she murmured, "I meant to ask you to go and inquire how Mrs Hurst's little boy is this morning. Did I?" "No, mother," said Delia. "There's a beautiful jelly made for him," said Mrs Hunt, closing her eyes again, and folding her hands in front of her comfortable person. "I thought you might take it." "I passed the door this morning," said Delia. "I could easily have taken it if you had remembered to ask me. It's so late now." "It won't keep firm this hot weather," continued Mrs Hunt's sweet, low voice. "He ought to have it to-day." Delia did not answer. She was tired. It was hot. Mrs Winn's visit had come at the close of a most irksome afternoon. She was longing for a little quiet time for her music. "Poor Mrs Hurst!" pursued her mother. "So many children, and so few to help her. Johnnie's been worse the last day or two."