After the lapse of a quarter of an hour, the feet of Mrs. Tomkin-Jones appeared on the stair, followed by the gradual unrolling of the lady, next by that of Winefred, and then that of the shop-woman, as they descended from the measuring department. A placitude, an elevation, an illumination invested the countenance of Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, as though she had endowed a hospital, or was about to give her body to be burned in martyrdom for the Faith. 'Will one of the young men call my coachman,' said the lady with dignity. 'And, Miss Finch, you will remember my instructions about the _ruche_.' 'Home!' ordered Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, accepting the offices of the shopman, when he shut the carriage door, as undeserving of recognition, being of everyday occurrence. 'Since we live in the same square, Mr. Frank, my carriage will take you to your door after having set us down.' One of the party alone was dispirited and indisposed for conversation, and that was she whose money was being spent, and whose person was to be adorned. A fibre of her soul had been jarred. On reaching the door round the corner, the ladies descended. Frank Wardroper had jumped out. 'Baker shall drive you on,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones grandly. 'Not at all――we are but five doors off.' 'He really may as well.' 'I am already out and on my feet.' He took off his hat and bowed. 'Au revoir,' said Mrs. Jones, 'à sept heures.' On entering the house, Winefred, who had become somewhat pale, laid her hand on the arm of her hostess and said, 'I should wish to say something.' 'By all means, my dear, when?' 'Now, but not in the passage.' 'The hall,' was Mrs. Jones's correction. 'Is it concerning the tulle for the Assembly Ball? I myself question the ribbons?' 'It is not about any dresses,' answered Winefred. 'Well, here, come into the dining-room. Sylvana! No, she is not there, and the fire is low. Goodness, how the smell of last meal hangs about! Why did she not open the windows? As to the domestic servants, they think of nothing. Now, my dear, what is it?' 'Shall I come in?' asked Jesse. 'Yes,' said Winefred. 'I should wish you to hear what I have to say.' She shut the door. Mrs. Tomkin-Jones drew off a glove, and then threw up her veil. 'Very well, yes, my dear.' 'It is one thing only,' said the girl. Jesse saw that she was in earnest, that her communication would not concern the dresses. She said to herself, 'That girl has a temper, and is going to fly out.' 'It is one thing only,' repeated Winefred, looking straight at the widow. 'What did you say to the gentleman in a foreign language?' 'To Frank Wardroper? In what language? I speak several.' 'I cannot tell what tongue it was, but it was not English.' 'Oh! I did say something in French, I remember. But of course you know French?' 'I do not. You know that I do not.' 'Every lady is familiar――――' 'I was not brought up as a lady.'