Darsie’s breath; she stood stock still in the middle of the floor, felt her lips gape apart, the crimson rush to her face, saw in a mental flash a vision of the country bumpkin she must appear—just for a moment, then Aunt Maria’s voice said, in even, equable tones—

“Ah, here she is! Darsie, these are my young friends of whom I have spoken. I am pleased that you should become acquainted. My niece, Darsie Garnett. Noreen, Ida, and Ralph Percival... Now we will have tea!”

The voice, the manner, were absolutely normal. Was it possible that she had not seen? Darsie shot a quick glance at the old lady’s face, met an unconcerned smile, and for the first time in the history of their acquaintance felt a thrill of admiration. Splendid to have such self-control, to show no sign of surprise or irritation! She shook hands awkwardly with the three visitors, and sat down on the nearest chair.

“So awfully pleased to meet you!” cried Noreen gushingly. She was a smart-looking girl of sixteen, with brown eyes and a deeply dimpled chin. Darsie knew exactly what she was thinking—understood that the gushing manner had been adopted to disguise dismayed disappointment in the aspect of a possible companion. Ralph was quite old—eighteen at least, with well-cut features, thin lips, and small grey eyes, a dandy wearing a fancy waistcoat and resplendent white spats. His whole aspect breathed a loud, “I told you so! You would drag me with you. Told you how it would be. Lady Hayes’s grand-niece! What could you expect?” Ida was bubbling over with curiosity. What a fine story she would have to tell to the family party on her return!

Conversation would have dragged pitifully if it had not been for Aunt Maria’s efforts, for the visitors seemed smitten with dumbness, and beneath the fire of their glances Darsie’s embarrassment increased rather than diminished. She had no spirit left; a succession of monosyllables and an occasional “Oh, really!” made up the sum of her contributions to the conversation. It must have been a strong sense of duty which nerved Noreen Percival to offer the invitation which presumably was the object of her visit.

“We want to know if you will come to lunch with us on Thursday, and stay for the afternoon? If it’s fine, we can have some tennis. We will drive you back after tea.”

Darsie hesitated, but apparently the decision was not to be left to her. Aunt Maria accepted with a gracious acknowledgment of Mrs Percival’s kindness, and in answer to a scowl from Ralph his 

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