"Lucy, you will come with me to the opening service?"
Lady Andinnian shook her head. "I think not, Theresa."
"Why, it would be quite a distraction for you," urged Miss Blake, using the word in the French sense.
Sir Karl had been in London some three or four days now; and Lucy, all aweary without him, was longing and looking for his return every hour of the live-long summer's day. But she was proof against this offered temptation.
"I don't think Karl would like me to go to St. Jerome's, Theresa. Thank you all the same."
"Do you mean to make Sir Karl your guide and model through life, Lucy?"--and Lady Andinnian, sincere and simple herself, detected not the covert sarcasm.
"I hope I shall never do, or wish to do anything that he would object to," was her answer, a sweet blush dyeing her cheeks.
"Well, if you won't appear at church, will you attend the kettledrum afterwards, Lucy?"
"The kettledrum?" echoed Lucy. "What kettledrum?"
"We are going to hold one at Mrs. Jinks's--that is, in Mr. Cattacomb's rooms--for the purpose of introducing him to some of his friends, and to organize the parish work."