“It all sounds delightful,” she said. “You know I have never lived in a country town before; we were either at Morton or in London, and it is all quite new to me. But I love new things.” “I think you will find the charm of Wroxton grow,” said Miss Clara. “Certainly we all find that it grows on us. My sister and I are always glad to get back after our summer holiday to all our work and interests. We are very fond of our little centre.” “I am sure I shall find it charming,” said Jeannie. “Do tell me more. Tell me about the people here. What do you all do?” “We have charming neighbours,” said Miss Phœbe. “One of them is a relation of yours, is he not--Colonel Raymond?” “Colonel Raymond?” asked Jeannie. “I don’t know him, I think. What relation is he to us? You see, my mother had so many brothers and sisters. I am really very ignorant about my cousins.” “He is related through his wife, I think,” said Miss Phœbe. “His wife’s sister, I think, married a Mr. Fortescue.” Jeannie laughed again. “Well, I’m not so much to blame,” she said, “for the relationship is not very close. In fact, one is more nearly related to his wife. What is Mrs. Raymond like?” “A very quiet, sweet woman,” said Miss Clara, “and very unlike her husband. He is a very dashing, military sort of man.” Jeannie pondered a moment. “Oh, now I remember,” she said. “I’m sure he called here, while we were settling in. But Arthur and I were undoing the drawing-room carpet, so I had to say we were out. Do tell me some more. What do you all do?” Miss Clifford looked puzzled. “We find our days very full,” she said. “Household duties take up a good deal of our time, and then we have our relaxations. My sister’s great hobby is literary work.” “Oh, Phœbe!” ejaculated Miss Clara, blushing. “Oh, but how delightful!” put in Jeannie. “Do you write much?” “Clara has had fourteen poems in the Wroxton Chronicle,” said Miss Phœbe, with proper pride, “and another appears next week.” “I must get it,” said Jeannie. “Perhaps, if you are so kind as to take an interest in what I do,” said Miss Clara, “you would allow me, Miss Avesham, to send you a copy. It would be a great pleasure. The editor always sends me half a dozen copies.” “That would be very nice of you,” said Jeannie. “And what is your hobby, Miss Clifford?” “My sister plays the mandolin beautifully,” said Miss Clara. “She was a pupil of Professor Rimanez.” “Why, how charming!” said Jeannie. “Do bring it round here some day, Miss Clifford, and we will have duets. I, too, play a little.” “It would be a great pleasure,” said Miss Clifford, “but I am only a very poor performer.” The two Miss Cliffords were thawing like icicles in June. They hardly remembered that they were having tea alone with the daughter and sister of a peer. “Then there is the Ladies’ Literary Union,” said Miss Clara. “We meet every fortnight, and very improving and sometimes entertaining pieces are read.”