One evening Mrs. Jasher was due to dinner, and Hope had already arrived. No one else was expected, as Don Pedro had taken his daughter to the theatre at Pierside and Sir Frank had gone to London in connection with his military duties. It was a bitterly cold night, and already a fall of snow had hinted that there was to be a real English Christmas of the genuine kind. Lucy had prepared an excellent dinner for three, and Archie had brought a set of new patience cards for Mrs. Jasher, who was fond of the game. While the widow played, the lovers hoped to make love undisturbed, and looked forward to a happy evening. But there was one drawback, for although the dinner hour was supposed to be eight o'clock, and it was now thirty minutes past, Mrs. Jasher had not arrived. Lucy was dismayed. “What can be keeping her?” she asked Archie, to which that young gentleman replied that he did not know, and, what was more, he did not care. Miss Kendal very properly rebuked this sentiment. “You ought to care, Archie, for you know that if Mrs. Jasher does not come to dinner, you will have to go away.” “Why should I?” he inquired sulkily. “People will talk.” “Let them. I don't care.” “Neither do I, you stupid boy. But my father will care, and if people talk he will be very angry.” “My dear Lucy,” and Archie put his arm round her waist to say this, “I don't see why you should be afraid of the Professor. He is only your step-father, and you aren't so very fond of him as to mind what he says. Besides, we can marry soon, and then he can go hang.” “But I don't want him to go hang,” she replied, laughing. “After all, the Professor has always been kind to me, and as a step-father has behaved very well, when he could easily have made himself disagreeable. Another thing is that he can be very bad tempered when he likes, and if I let people talk about us--which they will do if they get a chance--he will behave so coldly to me, that I shall have a disagreeable time. As we can't marry for ever so long, I don't want to be uncomfortable.” “We can marry whenever you like,” said Hope unexpectedly. “What, with your income so unsettled?” “It is not unsettled.” “Yes, it is. You will help that horrid spendthrift uncle of yours, and until he and his family are solvent I don't see how we can be sure of our money.” “We are sure of it now, dearest. Uncle Simon has turned up trumps after all, and so have his investments.” “What do you mean exactly?” “I mean that yesterday I received a letter from him saying that he was now rich, and would pay back all I had lent him. I went up to London to-day, and had an interview. The result of that is that I am some thousands to the good, that Uncle Simon is well off for the rest of his life and will require no more assistance, and that my three hundred a year is quite clear for ever and ever and ever.” “Then we can marry,” cried Miss Kendal with a gasp of delight. “Whenever you choose--next week if you like.”