"_That_ is my daughter-in-law," said Lady Kynaston to herself, and she almost groaned aloud. "She is _worse_ even than I thought! Countrified and common to the last degree; there will be no licking that face or that figure into shape--they are hopeless! Elise and Worth combined could do nothing with her! John must be mad. No wonder she is good, poor thing," added the naughty little old lady, cynically. "A woman with _that_ appearance can never be tempted to be anything else!" The quadrille came to an end, and Sir John, after depositing his partner at the further side of the room, came up to his mother. "My dear mother, how are you? I am so sorry about your journey; you must be dead beat. What a fool Bates was to make such a mistake." He was looking about the room as he spoke. "I must introduce you to Vera." "Yes, introduce me to her at once," said his mother, in a resigned and depressed tone of voice. She would like to have added, "And pray get it over as soon as you can." What she did say was only, "Bring her up to me now. The young lady you have just been dancing with, I suppose!" "What!" cried Sir John, and burst out laughing. "Good Heavens, mother! that was Miss Smiles, the daughter of the parson of Lutterton. You don't mean to say you thought a little ugly chit like _that_ was my Vera!" His mother suddenly laid her hand upon his arm. "Who is that lovely woman who has just come in with Maurice?" she exclaimed. Her son followed the direction of her eyes, and beheld Vera standing in the doorway that led from the conservatory by his brother's side. Without a word he passed his mother's hand through his arm and led her across the room. "Vera, this is my mother," he said. And Lady Kynaston owned afterwards that she never felt so taken aback and so utterly struck dumb with astonishment in her life. Her two sons looked at her with amusement and some triumph. The little surprise had been so thoroughly carried out; the contrast of the truth to what they knew she had expected was too good a joke not to be enjoyed. "Not much what you expected, little mother, is it?" said Maurice, laughingly. But to Vera, who knew nothing, it was no laughing matter. She put both her hands out tremblingly and hesitatingly--with a pretty pleading look of deprecating deference in her eyes--and the little old lady, who valued beauty and grace and talent so much that she could barely tolerate goodness itself without them, was melted at once. "My dear," she said, "you are beautiful, and I am going to love you; but these naughty boys made me think you were something like little Miss Smiles." "Nay, mother, it was your own diseased imagination," laughed Maurice; "but come, Vera, I am not going to be cheated of this waltz--if John does not want you to dance with him, that is to say." John nodded pleasantly to them, and the two whirled away together into the midst of the throng of dancers. "Well, mother?"