gazed at the woman, instinctively taking in every particular of her appearance, as only a woman could do. Unconsciously to herself, Lottie appraised the other, saw through her, calculating the meaning of her and all her finery. No man could have done it, and she was not herself aware of having done it; but Polly knew very well what that look meant. Notwithstanding her own confidence in her bridal array, even Polly felt it coming to pieces, felt it being set down for what it was worth; and, naturally, the feeling that this was so made her angry and defiant. “How do you do, miss?” she said, feeling that even her voice sounded more vulgar than it need have done. “I hope as we shall be good friends. Your pa has played you a nice trick, hasn’t he? But men is men, and when they’re like he is there’s allowances to be made for them.” Polly was aware that this speech was in her very worst style. She had not intended to call Lottie Miss; but with that girl standing staring, in a plain cotton frock, looking a lady, every inch of her, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot--a bride, in a fine bonnet covered with orange-blossoms, and a bright silk dress that matched, was not in possession of her faculties. Bold as she was, she could not but be conscious of a tremor which mingled with her very defiance. “Well, I’m sure, what a pretty table!” she resumed. “They might have known we were coming home, Captain. There ain’t much on it, perhaps--not like the nice chicken and sausages you’d have got at mother’s. But mother would never have set it out so pretty, that I’ll allow.” Then Polly looked round upon the dim old walls, faintly lighted by the lamp. “So this is the dining-room,” she said; “this is my new ’ome. To think I never should have been inside the door till now! Let me alone, Harry. I don’t want none of your huggings. I want to make acquaintance with my new ’ome. You know well enough I married just as much for the sake of living in the Lodges as for you--don’t you, now?” she said, with a laugh. Perhaps only fathers and mothers, and not even these long-suffering persons always, can look on at the endearments of newly-married couples with tolerance. Lottie was offended, as if their endearments had been insulting to herself. She looked at them with an annoyed contempt. No sympathetic touch of fellow-feeling moved her. To compare this, as she thought, hideous travesty of love with her own, would have but hardened her the more against them. She turned away, and shut the window, and drew down the blind with an energy uncalled for by such simple duties. When the Captain led his wife upstairs, that she might take off her bonnet, Lottie sat down and tried to think. But she could not think. It had all happened in a moment, and her mind was in an angry confusion, not capable of reason. She could not realise what had happened, or what was going to happen--an indignant sense of being intruded upon, of