It might, perhaps, be useful that evidence should be given at the forthcoming trial of the little contest which we have described.

If so, our friend in mufti was prepared to give it.
On the following morning, at about eleven, a cab drove up to the door, and Alaric, standing at the dining-room window, saw Mrs.
Woodward get out of it.
'There's your mother,' said Alaric to his wife.

'I will not see her--let her go up to the drawing-room.' 'Oh! Alaric, will you not see mamma ?' 'How can I, with my face swollen as it is now?
Besides, what would be the good?
What can I say to her?
I know well enough what she has to say to me, without listening to it.' 'Dear Alaric, mamma will say nothing to you that is not kind; do see her, for my sake, Alaric.' But misery had not made him docile.

He merely turned from her, and shook his head impatiently.

Gertrude then ran out to welcome her mother, who was in the hall.
And what a welcoming it was! 'Come upstairs, mamma, come into the drawing-room,' said Gertrude, who would not stop even to kiss her mother till they found themselves secured from the servants' eyes.