"Oh, certainly," replied Alizon indifferently. "A run up to town will do him good. I want Guy to enjoy himself in every way. But now, Mr. Gartney, excuse me for a time, as I must go and see how the baby is getting on. Will you stay to dinner?" "No, thank you," said Eustace, rising and holding out his hand. "I have some letters to write this evening, but I will come over to-morrow and see you before I go back to town." "That's right," answered Lady Errington, smiling as she pressed his hand. "Goodbye at present. Come to-morrow, and I will show you the baby again." She went to the door, when it suddenly opened, and Guy entered. "Oh, here you are, Guy," she said sweetly, as he stood holding the door open for her to pass through, "I was just going to send for you. Mr. Gartney is going away." "And where are you going?" asked Guy, with a half-smile on his stern face. "Can you ask?" she said archly. "To the baby, of course." And with a laugh she vanished through the doorway, while Guy, with a scowl, pushed the door roughly to, and strode across the room to Eustace. "Well?" he demanded curtly. "Well," answered Eustace coolly, "I did what I could--but of course, my dear fellow, it's a very delicate matter, and really I had no right to interfere in any way." "What did she say?" demanded Guy roughly, turning as white as a sheet. "She said you had better go to Town with me," answered Gartney reluctantly. Guy burst out with a harsh laugh, and turned towards the window with a gesture of despair. "Good God! and I'm breaking my heart for that statue." CHAPTER XXIII. MRS. VEILSTURM'S "AT HOME." "I hate 'At Homes,' they're simply Inquisitions To torture human beings into fits; A mixture of plebeians and patricians, On whom in judgment Mrs. Grundy sits; Sonatas played by second-rate musicians, And milk-and-water jokes by would-be wits; Such squallings, scandals, crush of men and ladies-- It's like a family party down in Hades."