'You remember what I once said,' Mary continued. There was absolutely no malice in her tone, but mere satisfaction in proving that the premises whence her conclusions had been drawn were undeniably sound. She was actuated neither by personal dislike of Ackroyd nor by jealousy; but she could not resist this temptation of illustrating her principles by such a noteworthy instance. 'Now wasn't I right, Lydia?' Lydia looked up with hot cheeks. 'I don't believe it!' she said vehemently. 'Who's Mr. Raggles? How do you know he tells the truth?--And what is it to me, whether it's true or not?' 'You were so sure that it made no difference what any one believed, Lydia,' said the other, with calm persistency. 'And I say the same still, and I always will say it? You're _glad_ when anybody speaks against Mr. Ackroyd, and you'd believe them, whatever they said. I'll never go to chapel again with you, Mary, as long as I live! You're unkind, and it's your chapel-going that makes you so! You'd no business to call me in to tell me things of this kind. After to-day, please don't mention Mr. Ackroyd's name; you know nothing at all about him.' Without waiting for a reply she left the parlour and went on her way. Mary was rather pale, but she felt convinced of the truth of what she had reported, and she had done her plain duty in drawing the lesson. Whether Lydia would acknowledge that seemed doubtful. The outburst of anger confirmed Mary in strange suspicions which had for some time lurked in her mind. On Sunday evening Lydia dressed as if to go to chapel, and left the house at the usual hour. She had heard nothing from Mary Bower, and her resentment was yet warm. She did not like to tell Thyrza what had happened, but went out to spend the time as best she could. Almost as soon as her sister was gone Thyrza paid a little attention to her dress and went downstairs. She knocked at the Grails' parlour; it was Gilbert's voice that answered. 'Isn't Mrs. Grail in?' she asked timidly, looking about the room. 'Yes, she's in, Miss Trent, but she doesn't feel very well. She went to lie down after tea.' 'Oh, I'm sorry.' She hesitated, just within the door. 'Would you like to go to her room?' Gilbert asked. 'Perhaps she's asleep; I mustn't disturb her. Would you lend me another book, Mr. Grail?' 'Oh, yes! Will you come and choose one?' She closed the door and went forward to the bookcase, on her way glancing at Gilbert's face, to see whether he was annoyed at her disturbing him. It was scarcely that, yet unmistakably his countenance was troubled. This made Thyrza nervous; she did not look at him again for a few moments, but carried her eyes along the shelves. Poor little one, the titles were no help to her. Gilbert knew that well enough, but he was watching her by stealth, and forgot to speak. 'What do you think would do for me, Mr. Grail?' she said at length. 'It mustn't be anything very hard, you know.'