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Bible readings after each of the three meals, and there was a “period of contemplation” from two to four, for the meals, of course, were served at country hours. The guest spent not a moment contemplating the hereafter, the subject suggested by her hostess. She contemplated instead revenge on her guardian.
    After her quiet weekend, she was well rested up to take him on. It was only the anticipation of it the next day that kept her from coming to cuffs with the chief mandarin when she scolded Miss Mabel for dropping a spot of gravy on the tablecloth, as though she were a child. She would not satisfy him to have Lady Graham report any misconduct on her part. She volunteered to play a few hymns on the old clavichord in the corner that evening, but the idea was vetoed. Music should not intrude on the Sabbath, except possibly in a church, and even there, it was suggested, it had a whiff of papacy about it.
    It was not yet nine when Lady Graham began to yawn into her tiered sleeves and her sister to eye the lamps, preparatory to extinguishing them. The striking of the long-case clock in the corner would be the cue to lay aside their books of sermons. Not even netting or knitting was allowed on the Sabbath. At one minute before nine, the door-knocker sounded. “Who on earth could be calling at this hour of the night?” Mabel wondered. One would think it were midnight at least.
    “Clivedon, of course, ninny,” her sister informed her. “No one else we know would consider a call in the middle of the night eligible. I am remarkably glad he sent you to me, Lady Barbara. I was afraid, when Lady Withers spoke to me of the plan, he meant to send you to her, and she is a sad, runabout creature. You would not want to stay with her. It would ruin your chances for a good match, meeting nothing but rakes and rattles.” Barbara listened, wondering which of the few octogenarians she had been introduced to her cousin was lining up for her. “Ah, Clivedon,” the dame continued, assessing her caller’s bow as he came in.
    “Good evening, ladies. Sorry to importune you at such a farouche hour. I was driving past on my way home from my visit and, as your lights were still on, I hoped I caught you before retiring.”
    “We were about to retire,” he was told, while Barbara figured that if he was on his way home from Kent, he had not been passing by, but had come several miles out of his way.
    “I shan’t detain you a moment. Merely I wanted to inquire how Lady Barbara is getting on.” He glanced at her, a fleeting look only, but long enough for her to glimpse the laughter in his eyes, before he turned back to the hostess. “You are to be congratulated, ma’am. She looks improved already. I can see you have followed my wishes and not let her stay up till all hours.”
    “I must confess we didn’t get into our beds till after ten last night,” Lady Graham admitted. “But we attended the late service this morning to catch up on our rest. Lady Barbara got her ten hours, and will have eleven this night.”
    “Excellent.” He smiled, looking about for a comfortable seat and finding none. The one sofa held the mandarins, while Lady Barbara sat on a hard-backed, unpadded seat that gave a view from the window. She had been sitting there since before darkness had fallen, looking into a perfectly empty road. He took a matching chair beside her.
    “I hope you enjoyed the house party at Oak Bay, Clivedon,” she said. “I didn’t realize, when you left us, where you were going, or I would have wished you a happy visit.”
    “I have already spoken to you about that, Lady Barbara,” Lady Graham intervened. “About treating Lord Clivedon with respect.”
    “I hope I show no disrespect to apologize, ma’am,” Barbara said, wondering what freakish nonsense she was to hear now.
    “You called him Clivedon! Watch your manners, missie. Lord Clivedon is what you should call your elders.”
    As Clivedon showed definite signs of displeasure