In two days everything was settled. Parting letters were issued to all the neighbors, crates were packed, rooms were rented and with the morning train to London, they left the smokes of Milton. London met them with fog as dense as the smoke they left behind. As the hired cab rolled along the streets towards their lodgings, Mrs. Thornton looked through the window with barely hidden disdain. London, indeed. It was as crowded, as dirty and as loud as worst parts of Milton. Well, there was occasionally a lofty building looming in the gloom, but certainly, nothing to gush about as Fanny often did. For Fanny adored London ever since she stayed there for the part of last winter season. Even now she sent a brief note to her mother that she would beg her husband to take a day or to join her mother and brother in the City. She regretted that her son was still too young to leave him for longer.

Mrs. Thornton was tired and cross by the time they finally reached their destination, but she held herself up rigidly. Surely she could not show such a weakness, especially in front of Miss Hale, who seemed as unruffled as ever. There was such thing as acting properly, no matter how old or tired one might feel.

The lodgings seemed small and dingy, at least when they first came in. But Miss Hale was on her own turf now. As unhurried and dignified as always, she sent a few notes about, talked to the landlady, sent a kitchen boy off on some errands, and right in front of the bemused eyes of Mrs. Thornton the place began to change. The logs were piled an unexpectedly roomy fireplace, furniture was moved around, a vase of fresh flowers appeared on the side table, and the drawing room was - well, all Miss Hale's. Did the curtains on the tall windows turned lighter and cleaner, and the floor shinier?

The by the time they changed, the tea urn was brought up, and they had a few minutes to sit down quietly before waiting on Lennoxes. Mrs. Thornton did not feel the taste of the tea she was sipping. She could not realize what was wrong with the arrangement of the tea table. It was small and square and did not have an obvious place for the lady of the house, yet there was no doubt that Miss Hale presided at it, perhaps without giving it a conscious thought. Of course, it was very natural that she knew London suppliers and shops better, and it was her lot to take care of her London invitations and visits, but it ended up all the same. Miss Hale made the decisions that a lady of the house should make. The house of Thorntons had a new mistress, and neither John or Miss Hale noticed the transition of power or the quiet submission of Mrs. Thornton.

The welcome at Lennoxes was civil, though perhaps not as warm as it would be in other circumstances. Mrs. Shaw and Edith were clearly unhappy with Margaret's decision and could not completely keep it out of the initial conversation. Yet the prospective marriage held powerful attractions and before they got up from the table the conversation was quite lively. The joys of wedding preparations outweighed the evils of Margaret's choice, at least for the time being. Mrs. Thornton felt that the story of her daughter's wedding was about to repeat, and she had enough the first time around. Therefore as soon as she could do so, she gently withdrew herself. She observed that Margaret was not eager to participate in this nonsense either, and also moved away to talk to John. John was the luckiest: no one would bother him much, though Captain Lennox felt that his duty as a host was to entertain him.

Mrs. Shaw's good breeding compelled her to pay necessary civility to Mrs. Thornton, and on more than one occasion she tried to involve her in general conversation, but without great success. Mrs. Thornton was not comfortable and sought refuge in her severe dignity and polite but brief replies. She had always been uneasy with the ladies and gentlemen of James' family because of their effortless ease with manners and style, something she never managed, and felt that they are disdained her rigid and untrained civility, occasional misplaced formality and altogether too much effort to do the right thing.

And Mrs. Thornton did know what right was. She approached her social duties with the same conscientious effort as the study of bookkeeping and cotton production. She learned all the rules and obeyed them religiously. Yet she knew that the people who populated the social circles where James came from saw her manners as old-fashioned and betraying a lack of style. Apparently breaking the rules was a sign of taste, and a cravat carelessly tied was more elegant than the one that was done properly. But heaven forbid if the carelessness would be of the wrong kind, and the right kind seemed to change every season. Mrs. Thornton had long despaired of understanding the fashion and style and resorted to the exact and decent if somewhat awkward and dated manner.

Therefore her participation in the dinner conversation was as little as civility permitted, and most of the time she engaged herself in the observation of others. The company held only the family, though young Mrs. Lennox seemed to wish for a more varied society. She was determined to have a large dinner party next day when Fanny and her husband would arrive in London.

"Oh, this would be an event you can not miss!" cried young Mrs. Lennox. "It will be in a completely fresh style, the dining table decorated with the wild poppies, isn't it droll? I am sure no one did anything rustic like this in London."

Mrs. Thornton was annoyed with her new acquaintance for the vapidity and uselessness of temper and occupation. Mrs. Lennox reminded her of Fanny. Only Fanny that was carefully brought up and thoroughly spoilt. Of course, Fanny at the young age did not have many pleasant things and toys; they were barely scraping up enough money for the simplest food. Fanny also did not have the same attention, with George dead, John working twelve hours a day, and Mrs. Thornton too busy with cooking, cleaning, and doing all the housework without any help. Perhaps Funny coming to get to know her new family was not bad at all.

Captain Lennox was a pleasant fellow, though rather insipid, and seemed to like John. Or at least he thought that John would look splendid at the dinner they were to give next day. To his surprise, the brooding and unfashionable Milton trader was apparently known about town, even among high-standing men such as parliament members, which substantially added to his social value.

Mrs. Shaw was much as Mrs. Thornton remembered her from sixteen months ago, with the same fussy manner, same curls, and smiles. She professed a deep motherly love for Miss Hale and deep concern for her well-being. But to her surprise, though she herself never thought of liking Margaret too much, Mrs. Thornton felt that Mrs. Shaw does not do justice to the Margaret. In some ways perhaps Mrs. Thornton understood her merits better than her own family. Margaret was undervalued and exploited by her cousin, who did not cross into outright tyranny only because she did not have strong enough character.

Mrs. Thornton looked at her future daughter in law with new eyes. Margaret was not unaware of the injustice from her aunt and cousin, remained affectionate and willingly helpful to those she loved even if she saw their shortcomings.

It did not spring from the meekness of temper, oh, no, Mrs. Thornton knew the girl all too well to suppose that. It was almost pride, and Mrs. Thornton had to admit that she saw it before in Milton, with her parents, when Miss Hale supplied strength and a steady character when her parents were crushed under sorrows.

She was tired by the end of the evening and grateful to finally get into lodgings and to her bed. Yer sleep was not coming easily. The bed was unfamiliar, and Mrs. Thornton could not remember when she slept last time anywhere but in her own bedroom in Milton. She thought that perhaps a drink of water would do her good, but the sloppy servant girl did not place a jug of water in the room. Mrs. Thornton got up and threw a dressing gown over herself. Surely there should be one on the buffet.

She tiptoed downstairs without lighting a candle, but there was really no need in that. The streets of London were lit at night much brighter than in Milton, and one street light was glaring right through the hall window. How could people sleep at night?

But there was another spot of light, soft light of the candles coming from the small dining room. Was John still working? Mrs. Thornton approached the door to see her son and stepped back almost immediately. John appeared fast asleep with his head on Miss Hale shoulder, his face pressed to her open neck. Her slender fingers caressed his cheek and sideburns gently, and her face was full of such deep tenderness that Mrs. Thornton stopped in her tracks. She saw the water jug on the shelf in mere five feet away from the couple and decided that she probably was not as thirsty as she initially thought.

In the morning she woke up before sunrise, to see the night fog still clinging to the windows. After a sleepless night and Mrs. Thornton was only too happy to hear the clock downstairs chime six. An hour working by herself in now empty dining room settled her mind into her usual collected state and she was quite ready to face the day ahead of her with patience and fortitude. For both were needed for a day of shopping with Miss Hale and, more importantly, with Mrs. Lennox.

They went from one shop to another, visited fashionable warehouses, drunk tea at the Gallery and created as much hustle as possible. They were indebted for most of the hustle to Mrs. Lennox, who took charge of their shopping party and provided more enthusiasm than the prospective bride herself. Both Mrs. Thornton and Miss Hale were listening more than they said, and considered the whole expedition rather tiring. Yet some of the fabrics Mrs. Thornton saw were exceedingly fine, and she could not resist touching them and running them between her fingers. The manufacture certainly came a long way since she last shop personally, instead of ordering the usual black silk by mail.

But Mrs. Lennox seemed unstoppable. With the excuse of shopping for her dear Margaret's wedding she searched, compared the color and weave, used silent and submissive Margaret as a live mannequin, and at the end chose some silk for Miss Hale's dress and beautiful lace for the veil, but also a lovely hat for herself, new shoes for Sholto and an adorable work table for the parlor.

Mrs. Thornton and Margaret gravitated toward each other in the whirl of vanity and insipid talks. Yet Mrs. Lennox' energy was so infectious, that it draw out Miss Hale, too. She picked half a dozen of silk gloves and, on some strange impulse, a wooden horse for little Sholto. Perhaps she felt some sympathy for the deranged expression on the horse's face, akin to what they all were feeling after this day of shopping.

They returned to the lodgings just in time to receive Fanny and her husband. The rooms John rented would not permit accommodation of the second family in a style to which Fanny aspired, and she insisted on staying in a hotel nearby. Much as Mrs. Thornton was fond of your youngest child, she secretly rejoiced at that decision. The time in London did not come easy to her, and she had no strength left to provide constant company to her chatty daughter and obnoxious son in law.

But for now, social obligations did not leave much room for the choice. They were all invited to Lennoxes for a second dinner in two days, in Mrs. Thornton's opinion, quite excessive. Yet Mrs. Lennox insisted, claiming that "you absolutely must come" and of course Fanny would not dream of missing it.

There were several young men at the party, and another couple, whose names slipped from Mrs. Thornton's memory almost as soon as they were was all very fashionable, in other words, neglectful to all the rules, extravagant in the silly things like masses of fresh flowers, but serving much fewer delicacies than Mrs. Thornton would think appropriate at her own formal dining events.

At least John seemed to be admired by both ladies and gentlemen, and of course, Fanny was unquenchable and completely undaunted by the elegance of the London society. Mrs. Thornton was not mistaken about her similarities with Mrs. Lennox. In very few minutes they were chatting like bosom friends. The matter of Miss Hale engagement could not be passed without a thorough discussion, of course, and Fanny finally found her shining moment, as she considered herself now to be the most competent in the history of the match. Mrs. Thornton did not attempt to check her. Perhaps it was better this way so that the future contact with Milton Gossip would not come as a shock for the new London relations.

The touching tale of the two long-separated lovers had a very similar effect in London as it did in Milton. Mrs. Lennox gave little cries of amazement, and was shocked that her dear Margaret never said that she was secretly engaged, "oh, poor Henry, he would have spared so much pain!"

Margaret was taken aback with the charge and protested that she had never deceived Mr. Lennox about her feelings. However, the romance of the gossip somewhat mollified Mrs. Lennox and added unexpected entertainment to her dinner party.

Yet all this nonsense was eventually too much for Mrs. Thornton. As soon as they rose from the table, she removed into a quiet corner of the music room, to a deep chair screened from the rest of the company by the potted palm.

In a few minutes, she heard a strange rumbling noise coming from the door behind her. Mts Thornton turned to look, but the door was leading to the dark and quiet part of the house. After a while, she saw the source of the disturbance. Little Sholto apparently climbed out of his crib and bodily dragged his wooden horse with him to the brightly lit room.

Mrs. Thornton frowned. It was well past his bedtime, yet no one seemed to be troubled by this. The boy was blond, small , and slight, but bright and was talking well for his age, and decidedly spoiled. The birth of his younger brother deprived him of much attention he came up to expect, and now he seemed to seek it wherever he could. And he was lucky this time.

"What are you doing out of the bed?" came from behind her. The voice was John's. Mrs. Thornton did not hear him coming up to this part of the room, and perhaps he did not notice her either in her hiding place. He was too focused on the boy and started talking to him in the serious, gentle tone that made him a great favorite with all Milton little urchins.

Shoto explained to this large, understanding man the absolute necessity for having the horse with him in his nursery at night, and that the nurse neglected to bring it there.

"It is a fine horse," agreed John.

The boy enthusiastically went into enumeration the many merits of his new steed, including smooth wheels and real mane and tail. He spoke well for such a small child and seemed rather bright. Mrs. Thornton peeked carefully around the trunk of the palm. John sat down to be face to face with Sholto, and the boy looked trustingly at him, hugging the wooden horse. The horse had the same mad expression as it had in the shop.

"Why do you need horse in the nursery?'

"He s a war horse. When I will be a knight, he will always be with me."

John sat down on the couch to bring his eye level closer to the child's and looked seriously right in the solemn little face.

"You want to be a knight? Will you fight dragons and save a princess?"

"No" answered the boy curtly, maneuverings his unwieldy toy around the corner of the chair. John lifted the horse to position it by his side and pulled Sholto on his knee. Sholto did not object to that as long as he could still hold on the horse's forelock, which made the horse look even more unhinged than before.

"Whom do you want to fight then?" asked John. Sholto looked at him appraisingly and decided that he can trust this large serious man.

"Huge animal" he whispered.

"Animal? Knights do not kill animals."

"I have to. So he won't take my auntie."

"Your auntie?"

"Yes. Mamma said that this huge Mitten animal wants to take my auntie away from us" Aunty. Oh. Huge Milton animal.

John could not quite hide his amusement, and even Mrs. Thornton smiled into her work; the horse was grinning madly.

"Don't you think you need to have a little more growing and knighting practice before you can take on a huge Milton animal?" John asked his tiny intended foe, gently smoothing blond curls out of his face.

"But he will take my auntie!"

"You are very brave to protect your auntie all alone" Sholto considered that. Going all alone against huge animals did not seem very appealing to him.

"The Horse will go with me," he said without much conviction; Horse did not seem a reliable ally in a fight, come to think about it, and he did have a very dubious expression. Sholto looked up at John in a timid hope.

"Will you help me?"

"Yes. I will make sure that no harm comes to your auntie."

"Promise?'

"Promise."

The french doors leading to the drawing room opened and a larger company walked in.

"Oh, Sholto, what are you doing outside of your crib at this time of night" cried Mrs. Lennox in exasperation. The boy reddened and puffed up, prepared to argue. The tears were already pooling in his eyes. The young woman had no method with her children and was neither firm nor steady. No wonder the boy had little desire to obey his own mother.

Before Mrs. Thornton ran away with her silent censure, another figure appeared. Miss Hale came to the boy and gently, but in the tone that did not afford any possibility of refusal, told the child that they will go back to bed now.

Sholto demonstrated much more inclination to obey his aunt than his own mother. He only had one feeble objection: "But my horse, I can not leave my horse!"

"The horse can come with you if you wish, but it will stay by the door of the nursery, where you can see it first thing in the morning."

Miss Hale took the boy by the hand, and John picked up the dotty horse, and together they walked towards the door. For the moment they were framed by it, Miss Hale and the child, and John with the wooden horse under his arm, and Mrs. Thornton thought that in that moment she saw the future to come. It was growing gradually in her treacherous heart, this deep conviction that if anyone could ever stand by John's side and make him happy, it was this woman.