she’ll show you the map.”
“Righto!” said the little girl, and dragged the reluctant Harriet into the library. Mrs. Herriton and her son were left alone. There was immediately confidence between them.
“Here beginneth the New Life,” said Philip.
“Poor child, how vulgar!” murmured Mrs. Herriton. “It’s surprising that she isn’t worse. But she has got a look of poor Charles about her.”
“And—alas, alas!—a look of old Mrs. Theobald. What appalling apparition was that! I did think the lady was bedridden as well as imbecile. Why ever did she come?”
“Mr. Kingcroft made her. I am certain of it. He wanted to see Lilia again, and this was the only way.”
“I hope he is satisfied. I did not think my sister-in-law distinguished herself in her farewells.”
Mrs. Herriton shuddered. “I mind nothing, so long as she has gone—and gone with Miss Abbott. It is mortifying to think that a widow of thirty-three requires a girl ten years younger to look after her.”
“I pity Miss Abbott. Fortunately one admirer is chained to England. Mr. Kingcroft cannot leave the crops or the climate or something. I don’t think, either, he improved his chances today. He, as well as Lilia, has the knack of being absurd in public.”
Mrs. Herriton replied, “When a man is neither well bred, nor well connected, nor handsome, nor clever, nor rich, even Lilia may discard him in time.”
“No. I believe she would take any one. Right up to the last, when her boxes were packed, she was ‘playing’ the chinless curate. Both the curates are chinless, but hers had the dampest hands. I came on them in the Park. They were speaking of the Pentateuch.”
“My dear boy! If possible, she has got worse and worse. It was your idea of Italian travel that saved us!”
Philip brightened at the little compliment. “The odd part is that she was quite eager—always asking me for information; and of course I was very glad to give it. I admit she is a Philistine, appallingly ignorant, and her
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