"Yes, Rosamond. You did not tell me of Cecil's vexation!"

"Cecil? Have I seen her since? No, I remember now. But is she
angry? Was it the dust-pan? Oh! Tom, Tom!"

"That and the Blockhead. Did Tom say anything very cutting?"

"Why it was an old stock charade they acted two years ago! I had
better tell her so."

"If you would it would be an immense relief, my dear. Raymond is
very much annoyed; she says she will speak to nobody till she has
had an apology."

"Then she can be as great a goose as I! Why, the Yankee muse and
Mrs. Duncombe took all in good part; but Cecil has not atom of fun
in her. Don't you think that was the gift the fairies left out at
the christening of the all-endowed princess?"

Mrs. Poynsett laughed, but anxiously. "My dear, if you can make
peace, it will be a family blessing."

"I! I'll eat any dirt in the world, and make Tom eat it too, rather
than you should be vexed, or make discord in the house," cried
Rosamond, kissing her, and speeding away to Cecil's door.

It was Raymond who opened it, looking perturbed and heated, but a
good deal amazed at seeing his intended scapegoat coming thus boldly
to present herself.