to go to their houses, and if he had, I must have cut him." By
reminiscences of this kind of talk, Lionel was saved from any design of
Mrs. Haughton's to attract his orbit into the circle within which she
herself moved. He must come to the parties she gave--illumine or awe odd
people there. That was a proper tribute to maternal pride. But had they
asked him to their parties, she would have been the first to resent such
a liberty.

Lionel found Mrs. Haughton in great bustle. A gardener's cart was before
the street door. Men were bringing in a grove of evergreens, intended to
border the staircase, and make its exiguous ascent still more difficult.
The refreshments were already laid out in the dining-room. Mrs.
Haughton, with scissors in hand, was cutting flowers to fill the eperyne,
but darting to and fro, like a dragonfly, from the dining-room to the
hall, from the flowers to the evergreens.

"Dear me, Lionel, is that you? Just tell me, you who go to all those
grandees, whether the ratafia-cakes should be opposite to the spauge-
cakes, or whether they would not go better--thus--at cross-corners?"

"My dear mother, I never observed--I don't know. But make haste-take off
that apron-have those doors shut come upstairs. Mr. Darrell will be here
very shortly. I have ridden on to prepare you."

"Mr. Darrell--TO-DAY--HOW could you let him come? Oh, Lionel, how
thoughtless you are! You should have some respect for your mother--I am
your mother, sir."

"Yes, my own dear mother--don't scold--I could not help it. He is so
engaged, so sought after; if I had put him off to-day, he might never