Ethel, who had never cut anything in her young existence, except her fingers now and then with her brother's and her governess's penknives, bethought her of asking Miss Honeyman to carve the chicken.

Lady Anne, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, sate looking on at the ravishing scene.
"Why did you not let us know you were Clive's aunt ?" Ethel asked, putting out her hand.

The old lady took hers very kindly, and said, "Because you didn't give me time.

And do you love Clive, my dear ?" The reconciliation between Miss Honeyman and her lodger was perfect.
Lady Anne wrote a quire of notepaper off to Sir Brian for that day's post--only she was too late, as she always was.

Mr.Kuhn perfectly delighted Miss Honeyman that evening by his droll sayings, jokes, and pronunciation, and by his praises of Master Glife, as he called him.