Casting about in his mind, Boringdon could think of but one person in the neighbourhood who was fitted to undertake so delicate a task, and who would, so he told himself, understand his own personal share in the matter; this person was Mrs. Kemp. To the Grange he accordingly made his way, after having listened in silence to Miss Vipen's softly uttered remarks. From the first fortune favoured him, for Mrs. Kemp was alone. The General and Lucy were gone to Halnakeham for the afternoon; and Boringdon, coming in out of the late November air full of suppressed excitement and ill at ease, felt soothed by the look of warmth and comfort with which Lucy's mother always managed to surround herself. To Oliver's own mother, to Mrs. Boringdon, an appearance of comfort, even of luxury, was all-important when guests were expected at Chancton Cottage. Then everything was suitably lavish, and even luxurious. But when the young man and his mother were alone, fires were allowed to burn low, the food, poor in quality, was also limited as to quantity, and it was well for Oliver that he cared as little as on the whole he did for creature comforts. In Mrs. Boringdon's mind the page boy was set against the sweets at luncheon and the cakes at tea which Oliver would have enjoyed, but then in the country a man-servant was essential--an essential portion of her own and her son's dignity. It was now four o'clock. At home Boringdon would have had to wait another hour for tea, and so would any passing guest who could be regarded as an intimate friend, but here, at the Grange, it appeared as if by magic a few minutes after the visitor had sat down opposite Mrs. Kemp, and Oliver soon felt heartened up to approach what even he felt to be a rather difficult subject. The kind woman whose aid he was about to invoke made it easy for him to begin, for she was very cordial; thanks to Boringdon, Lucy had thoroughly enjoyed the ball at Halnakeham Castle, and the mother felt grateful for even this small mercy. During the last two days she had reminded herself more than once that affairs of the heart, when not interfered with unduly, have an odd way of coming right. "I need not ask," he said, rather awkwardly, "if Lucy is no worse for the ball." Mrs. Kemp was not sure whether she liked to hear Boringdon call her daughter Lucy; he had only begun doing so lately, and she had not thought it necessary to mention it to the General. There was still a certain coolness between Oliver and Lucy's father--they avoided each other's company. He went on without waiting for an answer: "Mrs. Rebell seems to have found it a trying experience, and yet she did not dance at all. I went to the Priory this morning, and she was too tired to come down." "But then she came back so much later than you all did. I understand that she stayed on with the Fletchings party, and I heard some of their carriages going through the village at four o'clock in the morning!"