"Oh, indeed," returned Malcolm drily. "I suppose Miss Anna and I are
to be regaled on the same fare."

"No, sir, I think not. I believe Miss Anna and Dawson have contrived
some sort of meal for you in the schoolroom. They have done their
best, Mr. Malcolm; but what with committees and deputations and
Heaven knows what, my mistress has been driven almost out of her
senses. The maids are in the dining-room now, for there's to be tea
and light refreshment; and they've been behindhand too with the
plants from Covent Garden, drat them," muttered the old man
irritably. He was a faithful servant, and true to his mistress's
interests; but he was growing old, and there were times when he
longed to sit quietly under his own fig tree, in the Surrey village
where he was born, where meetings and committees were unknown.

"Never mind, Anderson," returned Malcolm pleasantly, "we cannot
entertain a Bishop without some degree of fuss and discomfort. I
will go up and find Miss Anna; I daresay she has nearly finished."
But as he ascended the handsome staircase, he was not so certain in
his own mind that this was a foregone conclusion; and again he
blessed the day when he had pitched his tent in the quiet pasturage
of Chelsea, where bishops and committees and drawing-room meetings
never interrupted his lawful meals, or impaired his digestion; for
Malcolm, like many other men, abhorred that nondescript meal so dear
to the feminine mind, a meat tea. The wide, softly-carpeted
staircase led to a spacious landing-place, fitted up with couches
and easy-chairs, and ending in a small but pretty conservatory.

The drawing-room was a large, well-proportioned room, with a