“That’s what I always said,” said Law. He was horribly grave, but he had not a word to say except that he had got a match at football, and perhaps might stay and sup with the fellows afterwards. “I’m just as well out of the way, for what can I do for you? only make things worse,” he said. And though he had been so kind and sympathetic at first, Law stole away, glad to escape, and left Lottie alone, to bear it as she might. She had no lesson that day, though she had pretended to have one. She would not go to the Abbey, where the new member of the family meant to appear, she knew. Lottie stayed in the familiar room which was hers no longer, until the silence became too much for her, and she felt that any human voice would be a relief. She went out in the afternoon, when all seemed quiet, when everybody had gone to the Abbey for the evening service. There would be nobody about, and it seemed to Lottie that the shame was upon her, that it was she who must shrink from all eyes. Mrs. O’Shaughnessy, however, knocking on the window violently, instantly gave her to understand that this was impracticable. The girl tried to resist, being afraid of what she might say, and of what might be said to her. But as she hurried on, Mrs. O’Shaughnessy’s maid rushed after her. Lottie had to go to her old friend, though very reluctantly. Mrs. O’Shaughnessy had a bad cold. She was sitting wrapped up in a shawl, and a visitor with something to tell was beyond price to her. “Come and tell me all about it, then!” she cried, “me poor darlin’!” enveloping Lottie in her large embrace. “And tell the Major, Sally, and let nobody come in.” The Major came instantly to the call, and Lottie tried to tell her story to the kind couple who sat on either side of her, with many an exclamation. “I knew that was what it would come to,” Mrs. O’Shaughnessy said. “And I never thought Despard (saving your presence, my dear) could have been such a fool!” cried the Major. “Oh, sure, Major, you’re old enough to know that every man is a fool where a woman’s concerned.” But what was Lottie to do? They petted her and condoled with her, soothing her with their sympathy, and all the tender words they could think of; but they could throw no light upon one point: what could the girl do? Nothing, but put up with it. They shook their heads, but could give her no comfort. If Law had but been doing something instead of idling all his time away! But then Law was not doing anything. What was he good for, any more than Lottie?