content to obey without question. In the meantime Joy had been whispering to her mother who now spoke out:
"Mr. Sheriff, will you allow me to make a suggestion about the places at table?"
"With a thousand delights, madam. Pray make whatever disposition you think best. I am only too grateful for your help."
"Thank you, sir. Well, if you do not mind I should like my sister. Miss Hayes, placed next to you; then Colonel Ogilvie and myself. On the other side if you will place next to my son-in-law his old nurse, I am right sure that both will be pleased."
"Hear, hear!" said Athlyne. "Come along, Nanny, and sit next your boy! Joy and I shall be delighted to have you close to us. Won't you, darling." Joy's answer was quite satisfactory to him:
"Of course … Darling!" It was wonderful what a world of love she put into the utterance of those two syllables.
The breakfast was a great success, though but few of the party ate heartily. Neither Athlyne nor Joy did justice to the provender. They whispered a good deal and held hands surreptitiously under the table, and their eyes met constantly. The same want of appetite seemed to have affected both the Sheriff and Judy; but silence and a certain restraint and primness were their characteristics. Mrs. O'Brien, seated on the very edge of her chair, was too proud and too happy to eat. But she was storing up for future enjoyment fond memories of every incident, however trivial.
It was mid-day before any move was made. There were no speeches—in public, as all considered it would break the charm that was over the occasion if anything so overt took place. When all is understood, speech becomes almost banal. But there were lots of whisperings; whispers as soft in their tone as their matter was sweet. No one ap-
