Tilly effected the necessary introductions prettily and with perfect composure; and presently the company assorted itself into what we will call Tableau Number One. Mr. Welwyn led Lady Adela back to the seat which she had vacated. "Most of the furniture in this mansion of ours is Early Victorian," he announced with a ready laugh; "but I think you will find this sofa comfortably Edwardian, Lady Adela." Lady Adela, favourably impressed with her host’s appearance and manner, smiled graciously and once more cautiously lowered herself onto the sofa. Here, in obedience to an almost imperceptible sign from her husband, the quaking Mrs. Welwyn joined her, and announced, in a voice which she entirely failed to recognise as her own, that it was very sweet of them all to come so far. Amelia ran impulsively to Dicky and kissed him. Mrs. Carmyle, Sylvia, and Tilly fell into a chattering group round the tea-table. Mr. Welwyn and Mr. Mainwaring shook hands warmly and exchanged greetings. The tea-party was launched. "How many years is it, Welwyn?" asked Mr. Mainwaring. "Let us not rake up the past, my dear Mainwaring," said Mr. Welwyn. "More years than we care to count--eh? We’ll leave it at that. But I am delighted to meet you again. I wonder how the old College prospers. Foster was your tutor, was n’t he?" "Yes," replied Mr. Mainwaring, pleasantly flattered to find that a man who had been two years senior to him should remember so much about him. "Mine, too," mentioned Mr. Welwyn, as if determined to put his guest at his ease. "He’s a bishop now, I hear," said Mr. Mainwaring. "_Eheu, fugaces_!" sighed Mr. Welwyn. "Come and sit by the fire." "I think we had better have tea, Tilly," said Mrs. Welwyn, as per programme. The Welwyn family, recognising a cue, began to bestir themselves for Tableau Number Two. "I seem to hear it coming up, Mother," replied Tilly. She was right. Portentous rattlings and puffings were now audible without. Next moment the doors were bumped open and Mr. Stillbottle appeared, carrying the tea-pot on a tray. Apparently something was on his mind. His appearance was that of a righteous man deeply wronged. His was the demeanour of a British artisan compelled by forces which he cannot control to perform a task not included in his contract. A moment later the situation explained itself. Behind Mr. Stillbottle, clinging affectionately to his flowing coat-tails, marched The Caution and The Cure. They were dressed in white, and looked exactly alike except that The Caution wore abbreviated white knickerbockers and The Cure a little white skirt. Their socks were white, their sashes and chubby legs were a radiant pink, and the angelic countenance of each was wreathed in smiles.