urging themselves anew. The seven family kisses were not so tiresome as they used to be.
"Mr Grandcourt is gone out, so I determined to fill up the time by coming to you, mamma," said Gwendolen, as she laid down her hat and seated herself next to her mother; and then looking at her with a playfully monitory air, "That is a punishment to you for not wearing better lace on your head. You didn't think I should come and detect you—you dreadfully careless-about-yourself mamma!" She gave a caressing touch to the dear head.
"Scold me, dear," said Mrs Davilow, her delicate worn face flushing with delight. "But I wish there were something you could eat after your ride—instead of these scraps. Let Jocosa make you a cup of chocolate in your old way. You used to like that."
Miss Merry immediately rose and went out, though Gwendolen said, "Oh no, a piece of bread, or one of those hard biscuits. I can't think about eating. I am come to say good-bye."
"What! going to Ryelands again?" said Mr Gascoigne.
"No, we are going to town," said Gwendolen, beginning to break up a piece of bread, but putting no morsel into her mouth.
