Lady Harrowdene had talked on, evidently to set Beth at her ease, and to accustom her to the shock of meeting English historical romances clothed in flesh, which she saw was much the way in which Beth regarded her. The little girl had listened, enthralled. Lady Harrowdene’s beautiful voice, her inflections, so different from those she had always heard, made of the tongue they both spoke something so unlike its old self, so attractively unlike it, that Beth could have listened forever, even had not what Lady Harrowdene said been so interesting. “Don’t be too disappointed, dear, that I am just an every-day twentieth century woman and not a splendid creature of Queen Elizabeth’s court!” Lady Patricia leaned toward Beth with the motherly look in her eyes, and Beth went over to her at once. “The daughter of a thousand earls, belted earls!” she murmured. Aunt Alida and Lady Patricia dissolved in merriment at this, and Lady Patricia hugged Beth vehemently. “You dear, funny little creature!” she cried. “I give you my word that I never had a thousand earls for a father in my life! And I’m quite sure my father never wore a belt, except when he was playing tennis. If it gives you satisfaction to think of me as a countess, pray keep it well in mind. But if it is going to raise a barrier against our intimacy, then please consider me only as the mother of five little English people, Herbert, Richard, Constantia, Gilbert, and my rosy, jolly baby James William. I had to keep up the family names and poor Jamie took both his grandfather’s and his father’s! You would love Jamie, Beth. He is nearly two years old. While I am away from him he tugs at my heart-strings like a particularly strong Atlantic cable. Dirk, dear, Beth and I are doing all the talking! You were but a little lad when I was last over; I remember you, but you will not remember me.” “Yes, I do now, Lady Harrowdene,” said Dirk. “You had the greatest little terrier I ever saw.” “I had, truly,” said Lady Harrowdene, greatly pleased. “He’s still the greatest little dog in England. The children will not allow him to leave them; he’s waiting my return with the rest of my family. You are all going to see him when you go over. He will do tricks for you, fall over dead, stand erect and salute at ‘God save the king,’ join in the chorus with barks when he’s bidden--he has really quite a repertory of accomplishments! I shall be glad to introduce you to Briton when you come to visit me, and that must not be later than the summer after next. Now then, Alida, are you ever going to tell them? If you don’t I shall.” “Do you think it’s fair to blame me for delay, Pat, dear? There has been no lull in the conversation!” returned Aunt Alida. Beth noticed with surprise this intimate use of first names; she wondered when Aunt Alida had come to know so well this lady, separated from her by the width of the Atlantic.