having a nasty temper. I have the disposition of a bowl of bread and
milk."

"Emily,"--as wheels rattled up the avenue,--"_is_ that the fishmonger's
cart?"

"No," answered Emily at the window; "it is the butcher."

"His attitude toward the women here has made my joy," Lady Maria
proceeded, smiling over the deep-sea fishermen's knitted helmet she had
taken up. "He behaves beautifully to them all, but not one of them has
really a leg to stand on as far as he is responsible for it. But I will
tell you something, Emily." She paused.

Miss Fox-Seton waited with interested eyes.

"He is thinking of bringing the thing to an end and marrying _some_
woman. I feel it in my bones."

"Do you think so?" exclaimed Emily. "Oh, I can't help hoping--" But she
paused also.

"You hope it will be Agatha Slade," Lady Maria ended for her. "Well,
perhaps it will be. I sometimes think it is Agatha, if it's any one. And
yet I'm not sure. One never could be sure with Walderhurst. He has
always had a trick of keeping more than his mouth shut. I wonder if he
could have any other woman up his sleeve?"

"Why do you think--" began Emily.