He stood enormous against the last gleams of day, and Jenny realized with what small people she had been living so long. "Jane," he said, "this is a big moment." He followed her into the room and waited while she lit the lamp and pointed with warning finger to the child asleep in a silence of ticking clocks. "There's a surprise, or isn't it?" "Rather," said Castleton. "It looks very well." "Oh, Fuz. It! You are dreadful. He's called Frank, and fancy, I never knew you were called Frank till you wrote to me last month." "Another disappointment," sighed Castleton. "What?" "Why, of course I thought you altered his name to celebrate my visit." "You never didn't?" said Jenny, already under slow rustic influences not perfectly sure of a remark's intention. Then suddenly getting back to older and lighter forms of conversation, she laughed. "Well, how are you, Jenny?" he inquired. "Oh, I'm feeling grand. Where are you staying?" "The One and All Inn." "Comfortable?" "I fancy very, from a quick glance." "You'll stay and have tea with us and meet my husband," Jenny invited. "I shall be proud." A silence fell on these two friends. "Well, what about dear old London?" said Jenny at last. "It's extraordinarily the same. Let me see, had tubes and taxis been invented before you went away?" Castleton asked. "Don't be silly. Of course," she exclaimed, outraged by such an implication of antediluvian exile. "Then flatly there is nothing to tell you about London. I was at the Orient the other night. I need not say the ballet was precisely the same as a dozen others I have seen, and you have helped at." "Any pretty new girls?" Jenny asked. "I believe there are one or two." "How's Ronnie Walker?" "He still lives more for painting than by painting, and has grown a cream-colored beard." "Oh, he never hasn't. Then he ought to get the bird." "So that he could say: 'Four owls and a hen, two larks and a wren, have all built their nests in my beard'? It isn't big enough, Jane." "And Cunningham, how's he?" "Cunningham is married. I don't know his wife, but I'm told she plays the piano a great deal better than he does. As for myself," said Castleton quickly, "I have chambers in the Temple, but live at home with my people, who have moved to Kensington. There, you see what alarming cataclysms have shaken the society you deserted. Now tell me about yourself." "Oh, I jog along," said Jenny. Further reminiscence was interrupted by the entrance of Trewhella, who saluted Castleton suspiciously and from shyness somewhat brusquely. "How do you do sir?" said the guest, conspicuously agreeable. "I'm very well, thank 'ee. Come far, have 'ee?" "London." "That's a poor sort of place. I was there once. But I didn't take much account of it," said Trewhella. "You found it disappointing?" "Ess, ess, too many Cockneys for a Cornishman. But I wasn't robbed over-much. I believe I was too sharp for them." "I'm glad of that," said the representative of cities.