“To be sure, I have! Your rooms at the Clarendon are in order, and there will be a good dinner waiting when you are ready for it.”

In something less than an hour they were all ready for a good dinner; their faces had been washed, Katherine’s hair smoothed and Madam’s cap properly adjusted. The squire was standing on the hearthrug in high spirits. The sight of his son, the touch of the town, the pleasant light and comfort of his surroundings, the prospect of dinner, made him forget for a few minutes the suffering he had passed through, until his son asked, “And did you have a pleasant journey, father?”

“A journey, Dick, to break a man’s heart. It hes turned me from a Tory into a Radical. This government must feed the people or – we will kick them back – ”

“Dear father, we will talk of that subject by ourselves. It isn’t fit for two tired women, now is it?”

“Mebbe not; but I hev seen and I hev heard these last two or three days, Dick, what I can niver forget. Things hev got to be altered. They hev that, or – ”

“We will talk that over after mother and Kitty have gone to sleep. We won’t worry them to-night. I have ordered mother’s favorite Cabinet pudding for her, and some raspberry cream for Kitty. It wouldn’t be right to talk of unhappy things with good things in our mouths, now would it?”

“They are coming. I can hear Kitty’s laugh, when I can hear nothing else. Ring the bell, Dick, we can hev dinner now.”

There were a few pleasant moments spent in choosing their seats, and as soon as they were taken, a dish of those small delicious oysters for which England has been famous since the days of the Roman Emperors were placed before them. “I had some scalloped for mother and Kitty,” Dick said. “Men can eat them raw, alive if they choose, but women – Oh no! It isn’t womanlike! Mother and Kitty wouldn’t do it! Not they!”

“And what else hes ta got for us, Dick?” asked the squire. “I’m mortal hungry.”

The last word shocked him anew. He wished he had not said it. What made him do it? Hungry! He had never been really hungry in all his life; and those pallid men and women, with that look of suffering on their faces, and in their dry, anxious eyes, how could he ever forget them?

He was suddenly silent, and Katherine said: “Father is tired. He would drive so much. I wonder the coachman let him.”

“Father paid for the privilege of doing the driver’s work for him. I have no doubt of that, my dears,” said Madam. “Well, Dick, when did you see Jane?”

“Do you not observe, mother, that I am in evening dress? Jane has a dance and supper to-night. Members from the government side will be dropping in there after midnight, for refreshment. Both Houses are in all-night sittings now.”

“How does Leyland vote?”

“He is tremendously royal and loyal. You will have to mind your p’s and q’s with him now, father.”

“Not I! I take my awn way. Leyland’s way and mine are far apart. How is your Aunt Josepha?”

“She is all right. She is never anything else but all right. Certainly she is vexed that Katherine is not to stay with her. Jane has been making a little brag about it, I suppose.”

“Katherine could stay part of the time with her,” said the squire.

“She had better be with Jane. Aunt will ask O’Connell to her dinners, and others whom Katherine would not like.”

“Why does she do it? She knows better.”

“I suspect we all know better than we do. She says, ‘O’Connell keeps the dinner table lively.’ So he does. The men quarrel all the time they eat and the women really admire them for it. They say ‘Oh!’ at a very strong word, but they would love to see them really fighting. Women affect tenderness and fearfulness; they are actually cruel creatures. Aunt says, ‘that was what her dear departed told her, and she had no doubt he had had experiences.’ Jane sent her love to all of you, and she purposes coming for Katherine about two o’clock to-morrow.”

“Oh!” said Madam, in a rather indifferent way, “Katherine and I can find plenty to do, and to see, in London. Jane told me recently, she had a new carriage.”

“One of the finest turn-outs Long Acre could offer her. The team is good also. Leyland is a judge of horses, and he has chosen a new livery with his new honors – gray with silver trimmings. It looks handsome and stylish.”

“And will spoil quickly,” said Madam. “Jane asked me about the livery, and I told her to avoid light colors.”

“Then you should have told her to choose light colors. Jane lives and votes with the opposition.” In pleasant domestic conversation the hours slipped happily away, but after the ladies had retired, Dick did not stay long. The squire was really weary, though he “pooh-poohed” the idea. “A drive from Leeds to London, with a rest between, what is that to tire a man?” he asked, adding, “I hev trotted a Norfolk cob the distance easy in less time, and I could do it again, if I wanted to.”

“Of course you could, father. Oh, I wish to ask you if you know anything of the M.P. from Appleby?”

“A little.”

“What can you say about him?”

“He made a masterly speech last session, in favor of Peel’s ministry. I liked it then. I hevn’t one good word for it now.”

“He is a very fine looking man. I suppose he is wealthy. He lives in good style here.”

“I know nothing about his money. The De Burgs are a fine family – among the oldest in England – Cumberland, I believe, down Furness way. Why art thou bothering thysen about him?”

“He is one of Jane’s favorites. He goes to Ley-land’s house a deal. I was thinking of Katherine.”

“What about Katherine? What about Katherine?” the squire asked sharply.

“You know Katherine is beautiful, and this De Burg is very handsome – in his way.”

“What way?”

“Well, the De Burgs are of Norman descent and Stephen De Burg shows it. He has indeed the large, gray eyes of our own North Country, but his hair is black – very black – and his complexion is swarthy. However, he is tall and well-built, and remarkably graceful in speech and action – quite the young man to steal a girl’s heart away.”

“Hes he stolen any girl’s heart from thee?”

“Not he, indeed! I am Annis enough to keep what I win; but I was wondering if our little Kitty was a match for Stephen De Burg.”

“Tha needn’t worry thysen about Kitty Annis. I’ll warrant her a match for any man. Her mother says she hes a fancy for Harry Bradley, but I – ”

“Harry is a fine fellow.”

“Nobody said he wasn’t a fine fellow, and there is not any need for thee to interrupt thy father in order to tell him that! Harry Bradley, indeed! I wouldn’t spoil any plan of De Burg’s to please or help Harry Bradley! Not I! Now I hope tha understands that! To-morrow thou can tell me about thy last goddess, and if she be worthy to sit after thy mother in Annis Court, I’ll help thee to get wedded to her gladly. For I’m getting anxious, Dick, about my grandsons and their sisters. I’d like to see them that are to come after me.”

Then Dick went away with a laugh, but as the father and son stood a moment hand-clasped, their resemblance was fitting and beautiful; and no one noticing this fact could wonder at the Englishman’s intense affection and anxious care for the preservation of his family type.

The squire then put out the candles and covered the fire just as he would have done at Annis and while he did so he pondered what Dick had told him and resolved to say nothing at all about it. “Then,” he reflected, “I shall get Katherine’s real opinions about De Burg. Women are so queer, they won’t iver tell you the truth about men unless they believe you don’t care what they think: – and I won’t tell Annie either. Annie would take to warning and watching, and, for anything I know, advising her to be faithful and true to her first love. Such simplicity! Such nonsense!”

Then he went to his room and found Mistress Annis sitting with her feet on the fender, sipping a glass of wine negus, and as she dipped her little strips of dry toast into it, she said, “I am so glad to see thee, Antony. I am too excited to sleep and I wanted a few words with thee and thee only. For three days I hev missed our quiet talks with each other. I heard Dick laughing; what about?”

“I told him I was getting varry anxious about my grandsons, eh?”

Then both laughed and the squire stooped and kissed his wife and in that moment he sat down by her side and frankly told her all he had heard about De Burg. They talked about it for half-an-hour and then the squire went calmly off to sleep without one qualm of conscience for his broken resolution. In fact he assured himself that “he had done right. Katherine’s mother was Katherine’s proper guardian and he was only doing his duty in giving her points that might help her to do her duty.” That reflection was a comfortable one on which to sleep and he took all the rest it gave him.

Madam lay awake worrying about Katherine’s wardrobe. After hearing of her sister’s growing social importance she felt that it should have been attended to before they left Yorkshire. For in those days there were no such things as ready-made suits, and any dress or costume lacking had to be selected from the web, the goods bought, the dressmaker interviewed, and after several other visits for the purpose of “trying-on” the gown might be ready for use. These things troubled Madam. Katherine felt more confidence in her present belongings. “I have half a dozen white frocks with me, mother,” she said, “and nothing could be prettier or richer than my two Dacca muslins. The goods are fine as spider webs, the embroidery on them is nearly priceless, and they are becoming every year more and more scarce. I have different colored silk skirts to wear under them, and sashes and beads, and bows, with which to adorn them.”

There was a little happy pause, then Katherine said, “Let us go and see Aunt Josepha. I have not seen her for six years. I was counting the time as I lay in bed this morning. I was about twelve years old.”

“That is a good idea. We can shop better after we hev hed a talk with her.”

“There, mother! You had two Yorkshireisms in that sentence. Father would laugh at you.”

“Niver mind, when my heart talks, my tongue talks as my heart does, and Yorkshire is my heart’s native tongue. When I talk to thee my tongue easily slips into Yorkshire.”

Then a carriage was summoned, and Madam An-nis and her daughter went to call on Madam Josepha Temple. They had to ride into the city and through St. James Park to a once very fashionable little street leading from the park to the river. Madam Temple could have put a fortune in her pocket for a strip of this land bordering the river, but no money could induce her to sell it. Even the city’s offer had been refused.

“Had not Admiral Temple,” she asked, “found land enough for England, and fought for land enough for England, for his widow to be allowed to keep in peace the strip of land at the foot of the garden he planted and where he had also erected a Watergate so beautiful that it had become one of the sights of London?” And her claim had been politely allowed and she had been assured that it would be respected.

The house itself was not remarkable outwardly. It was only one of those square brick mansions introduced in the Georgian era, full of large square rooms and wide corridors and, in Madam Temple’s case, of numerous cupboards and closets; for in her directions to the Admiral she had said with emphasis:

“Admiral, you may as well live in a canvas tent without a convenience of any kind as in a house without closets for your dresses and mantuas; and cupboards for your china and other things you must have under lock and key:” and the Admiral had seen to the closet and cupboard subject with such strict attention that even his widow sometimes grew testy over their number.

Whatever faults the house might have, the furnishing had been done with great judgment. It was solid and magnificent and only the best tapestries and carpets found a place there. To Madam Temple had been left the choice of silver, china, linen and damask, and the wisdom and good taste of her selection had a kind of official approbation. Artists and silversmiths asked her to permit them to copy the shapes of her old silver and she possessed many pieces of Wedgwood’s finest china of which only a very small number had been made ere the mold was broken.

After the house was finished the Admiral lived but five years and Madam never allowed anything to be changed or renewed. If told that anything was fading or wearing, she replied – “I am fading also, just wearing away. They will last my time.” However the house yet had an air of comfortable antique grandeur and it was a favorite place of resort to all who had had the good fortune to win the favor of the Admiral’s widow.