Rothbury's 'small and early;' so good-evening.
Lady Elton; good-bye, Max."

Good-evening,

"I wish you a very good-evening, Mr. Darnell," said the master of the house, with formal politeness.

"Mr. Darnell's carriage," said Max to the butler, who appeared to answer the bell, and the son of the house accompanied the parting guest politely to the door, shaking hands with him there.

"When do you start for Paris?" asked Lady Elton, as the young man returned, and threw himself somewhat wearily into a deep luxurious easy-chair.

"To-morrow evening, by the tidal train.”

There was a silence of a few minutes, and Lady Elton, turning from the fire, looked approvingly round the room, walked slowly to the folding-doors, and inspected the smaller sitting-room, and returned to the fireplace.

“Really, Mr. Frere," she said, you have done your furnishing very well. May I ask if it is all Jackson and Graham, or did you exercise. a right of choice?"

Mr. Frere smiled.

"I am not responsible. Maxwell here exercised a considerable right of choice, which added considerably to the sum total."

"Ah," said the lady, "that accounts for the portraits. Jackson and Graham, or any other highly civilised upholsterer and decorator would have banished your mother and uncle to the portrait gallery, which no customer of theirs should be without. Eh, Max ?"

"I suppose so. But in the smaller drawing-room they are inoffensive, and they are really good pictures."

"They are," returned Lady Elton; "and what a capital likeness of poor Joscelyn! Just as he looked at your wedding, Mr. Frere. I thought him the most charming of men, especially as he would not fall in love with me."

"How could he resist ?" said Maxwell, with a tinge of mockery. "Do not quiz your aunt, you disrespectful boy: especially as she has played hostess for you and your father's benefit. Pray do not give another dinner-party (a ladies' dinner-party I mean) for a couple of months, Mr. Frere. I think these solemn affairs are very awful. Come and dine with me and my Bohemian set on Wednesday, and see how pleasant we can be for half the cost. Am I not a wretch to talk in such a strain?"

"You are very good," said Mr. Frere stiffly, "but you must make allowance for the deficiencies of a widower's establishment."

"Deficiencies!" cried Lady Elton, again strolling into the other room to look at the portrait of an officer in hussar uniform, with a soft, sweet face, and laughing eyes. "Your ménage is only too

perfect! How unlike you and your brother were, Mr. Frere. I never could call you by your Christian name, though you are my brother-in-law. While he he is always 'Joscelyn' to me. It was too disobliging of him not to fall in love with me."

"I wish he had!" exclaimed Mr. Frere, with more of animation than he had yet shown; "I wish he had, and then I should not be bored by a modest application to forward the fortunes of his daughters, and find a career for his son."

"His son and daughters!" repeated Lady Elton, "I thought they were provided for by their fine old Irish gentleman of a grandfather."

"Provided for!" said the host, with a sneer; "when did an Irishman provide for anything?"

"I suppose it is their improvidence that makes them such pleasant people," said Lady Elton reflectively. "How many children did. poor Joscelyn leave ?"

"Two daughters and a son; but Maxwell can tell you more about them than I can," replied Mr. Frere, taking some letters which had come by the last post from a salver presented by the distinguishedlooking butler with almost religious reverence.

Yes; I remember you went over to Ireland for grouse-shooting the last two seasons," said Lady Elton, turning to her nephew; "so I suppose you found pleasant quarters ?"

"Wonderfully pleasant!" he exclaimed warmly. "Such ease and comfort, and a hearty welcome; Dungar was no Castle Rackrent, I assure you; everything was well-ordered. Occasionally oddities and incongruities cropped up, but only enough to be amusing and original; and the grandfather, Mr. de Burgh, was a typical highbred gentleman of the old school-like Lever's 'Knight of Gwynne,' but quite incompetent to manage his own affairs. My aunt and cousins, however, had to turn out, because the property is entailed, and goes to a distant relative. Old Mr. de Burgh had no sons."

"It must be very hard for them," said Lady Elton musingly; "are they left quite unprovided for?"

"Not quite," returned Max; then, addressing his father: "I .called to-day at Steenson and Gregg's, as you desired, to ascertain what they knew about Mrs. Joscelyn Frere's resources, and they referred me to a queer little fellow who manages their Irish business. He told me there is something like seven or eight thousand pounds left of her younger child's portion, and that remains a first charge on the estate. It seems the firm raised money for old De Burgh, and this man knows all about the De Burgh affairs, for he is the son of a Dungar tenant, and was recommended to the firm by my uncle two or three and twenty years ago."

"Seven or eight thousand pounds on land!—that means scarce three hundred and fifty a year. Why don't you take it and trade with it, Mr. Frere, and give your sister-in-law six per cent.?" suggested Lady Elton, ringing the bell with the freedom of an habituée. Here is another sister-in-law ready to lend you on the same

terms."

"Thank you,” replied Mr. Frere coldly, "the firm is not in need of funds; but if you really want a safe investment, consult Steenson. He is a very cautious, prudent adviser. I must say I have often wondered why you withdrew your affairs from his management."

"I daresay you have," said Lady Elton, with her sweetest smile and just a little nod; "but I daresay Max will find out one day that I have mismanaged them myself. My cloak and fur, if you please" (this to the butler). "After Southern Italy, I assure you furs are very acceptable, though we are on the borders of April."

There was a short silence, during which Mr. Frere frowned over a letter, and Max hummed the Lost Rose of Summer.'

It was broken by the entrance of a stout, supremely respectable woman, in a lace cap and a black silk dress, who carried over one arm a large red Indian cashmere cloak, richly embroidered with silvery white silk and a sable boa.

"Oh, thank you, Gardner," said Lady Elton, civilly, and turning to allow the housekeeper to envelop her in her wraps. "I think everything went very well to-day, Gardner; quite creditably."

"I am glad your ladyship is satisfied," replied the sedate Gardner. "Are you warm enough, my lady? it is cold to-night."

"Quite warm enough, thank you. Good-night, Mr. Frere. Goodnight, Max; come and see me when you return from Paris, and tell me how the dear delightful city looks after all her troubles. I suspect those Versaillists did quite as much mischief as the poor Communards."

"Let me see you to your carriage," said Max, offering his arm. "Perhaps Mrs. Joscelyn Frere will come to London," said he as they descended the stairs; "though how she is to exist here I cannot imagine. But if she comes, do you feel disposed to call upon her? She is a nice creature, though highly impractical, and your advice

Max," interrupted Lady Elton, turning to look at him, "you are interested in these Irish relatives?"

"Yes, very much interested, and grateful too for some very pleasant days."

“Interested and grateful!" repeated Lady Elton, with strongly marked emphasis. "What remarkable people they must be!"

Max laughed good-humouredly, as he handed his aunt into the brougham that had waited so long.

"Good-night, and au revoir."

Good-night," returned Lady Elton. "Why, Max, it is striking

eleven!"

Max slowly ascended the stairs, and met his father coming from the drawing-room, evidently bound for bed.

"You are not going out again, Maxwell!"

"No, sir; I want to write a letter or two before I sleep, as I shall have no time to-morrow."

"Ah, talking of letters, here is one I had to-day from, I suppose, the eldest of those cousins of yours. It is signed 'Grace Frere.' It seems they are coming to London to seek their fortune. Preposterous! Read it, and see if you cannot put them off such a project."

"From Grace!" exclaimed Max quickly, a slight frown contracting his brow for an instant. "Give it to me!" and he waited with visible impatience till his father selected a square, thin letter from a large collection.

Taking it he bid his father a careless good-night, and sprang upstairs to his own room, a large, luxuriously furnished chamber, with a smaller sleeping apartment beyond. Hastily turning up the gas, Max Frere threw off his coat and waistcoat, and put on a dressinggown. Then, drawing an easy-chair to the table, and lighting a cigar, he opened the letter.

"DEAR UNCLE," began the girlish, yet not spidery, writing—“ My mother desires me to say that we intend leaving for London next week; there is no opening here for a young man of such abilities as my brother's, as she is sure you will think when you know him. Perhaps you could find lodgings for us somewhere near you three bedrooms and a sitting-room, or we might do with two bedroomsand mamma thinks we must not give more than two pounds a week. We will travel without any servant, for poor dear nurse's only daughter died a month ago, and she must stay to take care of the little children. My mother and sister join me in kindest regards to you and to Max.

"I am your attached niece,

"GRACE FRERE.

"P.S.-I am quite vexed! for I gave this letter to Randal more than a week ago to post, as he was going out, and I have just found it still in his overcoat pocket! I thought that you were perhaps out of town, as you did not answer. So I wrote to Jimmy Byrne, at Messrs. Steenson and Gregg's, and he will take rooms, and meet us. I hope you don't mind!-G. F."

After reading this with attention, Max laid it down, and burst into a low laugh of intense amusement. The idea of Richard Frere, the

dignified head of the great firm of Frere and Co., the probable M.P. for Finsbury at the next election, spending his precious moments in hunting up scrubby lodgings, at two pounds a week, for a tribe of obscure, moneyless relatives, was too comic. But the reverse of the picture forced itself upon him-the pathos of this utter, simple trust in the claim and right of kinship.

"What will they all do in London?" he thought. "What a terrible schooling is before them! Poor Grace!" A short, quick sigh. "But when was this precious letter written? The only date is Friday. It could not have been last Friday. This is Wednesday. I should not be surprised if they were already in town. That curious little beggar at Steenson's said they were coming immediately. How deeply disgusted my father will be! And they -they, no doubt, set it down to our shop-keeping miserliness that the Frere mansion is not thrown open for their reception. God help them! that mediæval style is long gone by. I believe Grace thought I stood behind a counter and sold sugar by the pound. After all, the difference is less in kind than in degree. But Randal's abilities! What a delusion! He will be the real millstone round their necks. Still, we must give him a chance."

And, leaning back in his chair, watching the blue curls of smoke, Max thought hard for the next ten or fifteen minutes; and then, muttering:

"It is a tremendous break-up, and hard lines for Grace-deuced hard lines" he opened his blotting-book, and began to write rapidly and steadily.

CHAPTER II.

THE same evening, while the gorgeous guests at Mr. Frere's feast were beginning to disperse, a note of preparation was distinctly perceptible in one of the small houses of a semi-genteel crescent in the Camden Hill district.

The mistress of the house had looked twice from the front-door down the street, and each time had said to the "little captive maid," who under strict discipline had accomplished herculean labours of cleaning and polishing:

"I don't see no sign of them, Sarah; yet the gentleman said as the train would be at Euston about nine, now it's just twenty-or just seven minutes to ten."

And each time Sarah had replied: "Trains ain't always punctual, mum! and then there's the luggage to see to."

"I will look to the parlour fire, Sarah; the gentleman said I was to be sure and have one; he seemed a fair-speaking, genteel sort