The evening was to be devoted to this important meeting, but the
next day Malcolm had promised to take Anna for an outing--it would
be her birthday--and already they had made and rejected many plans.
Kew, Richmond, Hampton Court, and Henley had all been proposed; but
Anna had been indifferent to each. She had been to the Royal Academy
more than once, and all the best concerts were over; the weather was
too hot for sight-seeing, and in her present state of languor she
dreaded fatigue and crowds. "What did the place matter after all,"
she said to herself, "as long as Malcolm was with her? Her rest and
enjoyment were in his society--to sit beside him and listen to his
dear voice, and tell him all her little joys and troubles."

The programme was still a blank when Malcolm knocked at his mother's
door. Anderson received him with a beaming face. The old man had
grown a trifle stiff and rheumatic of late years, but he still kept
a sharp eye on his coadjutor--the weak-minded and erring Charles.

"They are not expecting you just yet, Mr. Malcolm," observed
Anderson respectfully; "the mistress has a committee in the library,
and Miss Anna is in the drawing-room along with Charles and the
carpenter, arranging the seats."

"What time do they dine, Anderson?" Malcolm put the question with
some indifference--he knew quite well what the answer would be.

"Why, you see, Mr. Malcolm, it is past six now," returned Anderson
apologetically, "and the meeting's for eight, and the mistress said
there would be no time for dinner as the committee would not break
up until seven, so she will have a cup of tea and a sandwich."