She came forward and held out two welcoming hands to her visitor.
John Crewys bowed over those little white hands, and became suddenly conscious that his vague, romantic sentiment had given place to a very real emotion--an almost passionate anxiety to shield one so fair and gentle from the trouble which was threatening her, and of which, as he knew, she was perfectly unconscious.
The warmth of her impulsive welcome did not, of course, escape the keen eyes of the sisters-in-law, which, in such matters as these, were quite undimmed by age.
"Why didn't somebody pour out tea ?" said Lady Mary.
"We know your rights, Mary," said Miss Crewys.

"Never shall it be said that dear Timothy's sisters ousted his wife from her proper place, because she did not happen to be present to occupy it." "Besides," said Lady Belstone, "you have, no doubt, some excellent reason, my love, for the delay." Lady Mary's blue eyes, glancing at John, said quite plainly and beseechingly to his understanding, "They are old, and rather cranky, but they don't mean to be unkind.

Do forgive them;" and John smiled reassuringly.
"I'm afraid I haven't much excuse to offer," she said ingenuously.

"I was out late, and I tired myself; and then I heard Sir Timothy had come back, so I went to see him.

And then I made haste to change my dress, and it took a long time--and that's all." The three gentlemen laughed forgivingly at this explanation, and the two ladies exchanged shocked glances.
"Our cousin John did his best to entertain us, and we him," said Lady Belstone, stiffly.
"His best--and how good that must be!" said Lady Mary, with pretty spirit.