there was, as chief guest, the celebrated Thomas Sandys. It should
have been a triumph of a tea-party, and yet it was not. Mrs. McLean
could not tell why.

Grizel could have told why; her eyes told why every time they rested
scornfully on Mr. Sandys. It was he, they said, who was spoiling the
entertainment, and for the pitiful reason that the company were not
making enough of him. He was the guest of the evening, but they were
talking admiringly of another man, and so he sulked. Oh, how she
scorned Tommy!

That other man was, of course, the unknown Captain Ure, gallant
rescuer of boys, hero of all who admire brave actions except the
jealous Sandys. Tommy had pooh-poohed him from the first, to Grizel's
unutterable woe.

"Have you not one word of praise for such a splendid deed?" she had
asked in despair.

"I see nothing splendid about it," he replied coldly.

"I advise you in your own interests not to talk in that way to
others," she said. "Don't you see what they will say?"

"I can't help that," answered Tommy the just. "If they ask my opinion,
I must give them the truth. I thought you were fond of the truth,
Grizel." To that she could only wring her hands and say nothing; but
it had never struck her that the truth could be so bitter.

And now he was giving his opinion at Mrs. McLean's party, and they