Mary, as the friend of all parties, including Mr. Cheesewright, who had unexpectedly found favor in her sight, felt it to be her duty to stay in the room, so that, if possible, oil might be poured on the troubled waters. She had sense of acute discomfort, it was true; and it was not made less by the sure knowledge that the heavy weapons mother and daughter were using for the benefit of each other would soon be turned against herself.
There was not long to wait for this prophecy to be fulfilled. As soon as the ladies had cut off her retreat, they dropped the academic subject of Mr. Cheesewright and bluntly demanded to know what was the matter. It was vain for Mary to try to parry this expected attack. Her friends, when their feelings were deeply stirred, indulged in a sledge-hammer style of warfare, against which any ordinary kind of defense was powerless.
"Don't tell me," said Mrs. Wren, "that you have let them bully you into giving him up!"
This was what Milly was wont to call her mother's "old Sadler's Wells touch" with a vengeance. The victim bit her lip sharply, but she could not prevent the color from rushing to her cheeks and giving her completely away.
"Why, of course she has!" cried Milly, looking at her pitilessly. "I knew she would. I told you, my dear, she was set on doing something fantastic. And here have I been telling Charley that one day she would be a duchess."
"I call it soppy," said Mrs. Wren.
"Downright mental flabbiness," cried Milly. "It's the sort of thing a girl would do in the Family Herald."
Mary quailed before these taunts. Even if her friends
