Dicky nodded, and his gaze became suddenly ecstatic. "Tilly," he said in tones of exultant pride, "you are looking perfectly beautiful." "This is a strictly business meeting," smiled Tilly; but her heart bumped foolishly. For a moment nothing seemed to matter save the knowledge that Dicky loved her and she loved Dicky. The next event of any importance was the discovery that Mrs. Carmyle, engrossed with the twins, had had no tea. There were cries of contrition from the Welwyn family, and Connie was hurried to the tea-table, followed by the desolating howls of her youthful admirers--howls which increased to yells when Mrs. Welwyn announced that it was time for them to return whence they came. However, they were pacified by an offer from their new friend to accompany them part of the way; and after submitting with a sweetness as adorable as it was unexpected to an embrace from Lady Adela, they left the room clinging to Connie’s skirts, having contributed to the programme the one unassailably successful item of the whole afternoon. Amelia went with them, but returned almost immediately. "Mrs. Carmyle is telling them a story in the dining-room," she said to her mother. "They are as good as gold with her." "Dear Constance! She is a fairy godmother to all children," remarked Lady Adela, who was feeling quite remarkably beatific. "Yes--children of all ages," corroborated Dicky, catching Tilly’s eye. "I declare," cried Mrs. Welwyn suddenly, as this pleasant episode terminated, "I had almost forgotten. Tilly dear, you had better take your grandmother’s tea in to her." "All right, Mother," assented Tilly blithely. The party was shaping into a success. "I am so sorry, Lady Adela," said Mr. Welwyn, picking up the new topic with the readiness of a practised conversationalist, "that you will not meet my wife’s mother this afternoon. She spends a good deal of her time with us. A dear old lady--quite of the Early Victorian school." "She is not unwell, I hope," said Lady Adela politely. "A slight chill--a mere nothing," Mr. Welwyn assured her; "but at that age one has to be careful. The doctor is keeping her in bed to-day. I regret it, because I think you would have enjoyed a conversation with her. She is a mistress of the rounded phrase and polished diction of two generations ago. So unlike the staccato stuff that passes for conversation nowadays." "Too true, too true!" agreed Lady Adela, eagerly mounting one of her pet hobby-horses. "She sounds most stimulating. It is unfashionable to-day to be elderly. My daughter informs me that no one--not even a grandmother--should have any recollection of anything that happened previous to the period when people wore bustles. All time before that she sums up as the chignon age. No, there is no sense of perspective nowadays. We are all for the present." "Admirably put, dear Lady Adela," cooed Mr. Welwyn. "I remember--"