Mr. Brooks smiled as he offered his arm to Mrs. Bullsom--a courtesy
which much embarrassed her.

"I think," he said, "that we shall be able to show you some practical
appreciation of your thoughtfulness. I know nothing so stimulating to
the appetite as politics, and to-day we have been so busy that I missed
even my afternoon tea."

"I'm sure that we are quite repaid for giving up our dinner," Selina
remarked, with a backward glance at the young man. "Oh, here you are at
last, Mary. I didn't hear you come in."

"My niece, Miss Scott," Mr. Bullsom announced. "Now you know all the
family."

A plainly-dressed girl with dark eyes and unusually pale cheeks returned
his greeting quietly, and followed them into the dining-room. Mrs.
Bullsom spread herself over her seat with a little sigh of relief.
Brooks gazed in silent wonder at the gilt-framed oleographs which hung
thick upon the walls, and Mr. Bullsom stood up to carve a joint of
beef.

"Plain fare, Mr. Brooks, for plain people," he remarked, gently
elevating the sirloin on his fork, and determining upon a point of
attack. "We don't understand frills here, but we've a welcome for our
friends, and a hearty one."

"If there is anything in the world better than roast beef," Brooks
remarked, unfolding his serviette, "I haven't found it."