Was I right?

by Mrs. O. F. Walton

"Oh, I'm not so very tired, May," she said, "but I wanted papa and Donald to have dinner alone, because, don't you see, papa will be obliged to talk to him now. If we were there, I know just how it would be. Papa would talk to you and talk to me, and hardly say a word to Donald. But now, you see, he must talk to him, because there is no one else there, and you will see they will be quite friendly after dinner; at least, matters will be much better than they are now."

And, to a certain extent, Evelyn was right. When we went into the library we found Mr. Trafford sitting comfortably in an easy chair, with the "Times" newspaper in his hand, discussing the events of the day with his uncle, apparently quite at his ease, and looking as comfortable as if his presence in Alliston Hall was the result of an urgent and pressing invitation.

And Sir William? He was not at his ease. I could see that by his tightly compressed mouth when his nephew was speaking, and by the careful way in which he tried to engross Evelyn's attention as soon as she came into the room. But still I could see that he found it very difficult to keep up any appearance of displeasure in the face of Mr. Trafford's pleasant, cheerful manner, and almost impossible to quarrel with a man who was quite determined not to quarrel with him.

Evelyn was very silent the whole evening, and seemed in bad spirits. She talked a little to me, but she very seldom spoke to her father or her cousin. Altogether it was a most uncomfortable evening, and I was not sorry when it was over.

The next day we did not see much of Mr. Trafford, for Sir William took him out with him after breakfast, and managed to keep him to himself nearly the whole day. Only once, when Sir William was unavoidably absent for a short time, was he left in the library with Evelyn and me.

"I wish you liked the bank better, Donald," said Evelyn, as soon as her father had left the room.

"I never shall like it better, Evelyn," he said, impetuously; "it is absurd my trying to live in London on the miserable allowance I get there. It is utterly ridiculous; no gentleman could do it."

"But, Donald," Evelyn said, "you really should be more careful of your money; you ought never to have bought—"

At a sign from him, she stopped suddenly short in what she was saying.

"You really ought not; ought you, Donald?" she said, instead.