He stood up and looked at them sternly.
"Up-town at this hour, Wayne ?" he said.
"Grandfather, I never knew you came here much," said Mathilde.
"It's near me, you know," he answered weakly, so weakly that he felt impelled to give an explanation.

"Sometimes, my dear," he said, "you will find that even the most welcome guest rather fills the house." "You need not worry about yours," returned Mathilde.

"I left her with Mama." Mr.Lanley felt that his brief moment of peace was indeed over.

He could imagine the impressions that Mrs.Baxter was perhaps at that very moment sharing with Adelaide.

He longed to question his granddaughter, but did not know how to put it.
"How was your mother looking ?" he finally decided upon.
"Dreary," answered Mathilde, with a laugh.
"Does this picture remind you of any one ?" asked Wayne, suddenly.
Mr.Lanley looked at him as if he hadn't heard, and frowned.
"I don't know what you mean," he said.
"Don't you think there's a look of my mother about it ?" "No," said Mr.Lanley, rather loudly, and then added, "Well, I see what you mean, though I shouldn't--" He stopped and turning to them with some sternness, he asked them how they accounted for their presence in the museum at such an hour and alone.
There was nothing to do but to tell him the truth.