'Oh of course, we quite understand that, Miss Wharton, and we will have everything put down in black and white by your lawyer,' said Mr. Montague Jones. Stella, who had taken the seat offered her by her undesired visitor, now rose to put an end to the interview; and then a sudden thought struck her. These people had motored from the south, and perhaps had come far that day--at any rate from the nearest town, a good many miles off--and she had not even offered them a cup of tea, and her Scotch hospitality forbade her to let them depart without doing so much. She accordingly offered it, and Mrs. Jones accepted the offer so gladly that her young hostess felt ashamed of herself; and, ringing the bell, she ordered in tea. The interval of waiting might have been rather awkward; but not long after David had answered the summons the door opened, and in walked Vava. Mr. and Mrs. Jones had an idea that Scotch girls in general were plain and hard-featured, hence their surprise at Stella's appearance; and Vava, though she was at an awkward age, and had not Stella's beauty, was a bright, fresh-looking girl, with merry, laughing eyes which no trouble could dim for long, and she too fitted in with her surroundings. 'How do you do? David will bring the tea in a minute, and there are still some scones left,' she announced, without waiting to be introduced. Mr. Jones shook her hand heartily. 'That's good hearing; we lunched early, and I've been with lawyers ever since, and worried with business, about which you luckily know nothing; and scones--which we poor ignorant Londoners call "scoones"--sounds very inviting.' 'So they are, deliciously inviting; but as for your business, I just do know something about it,' Vava observed. 'Vava!' cried Stella horrified. Mr. Jones laughed, not in the least embarrassed, though he had not meant to be taken up so. 'Ah well, business is business and pleasure is pleasure, and I don't believe in mixing them, though some people do. Business is over for this afternoon, and now I am having the pleasure of making your acquaintance.' 'Do you go to school, Miss Wharton?' inquired his wife, putting the first question ladies seem invariably to put to girls in their teens. 'No, but I am going to a day-school when we get to London. Do you know any nice ones there, not too dear?' inquired Vava. Stella coloured hotly, and looked despairingly at Vava, who was evidently in a mood to say dreadful things, as Stella considered them. But Mr. Jones stepped into the breach. 'If you take my advice you'll go to my school; it's one of the best in London.' 'Do you keep a school? I didn't know rich people did that,' said Vava.