"Constance, dear, you have chosen a very draughty corner for yourself." "I have put fresh note-paper in your bedroom, Connie," added Sylvia cordially. "I’m as right as rain, thanks," said Connie. "Just scribbling a line to Bill." And she began:-- _I have arrived quite safely, old man, and the most tremendously exciting things are happening here. Listen!_ CHAPTER XIV ANOTHER COSY CHAT, WITH AN INTERRUPTION I _The victim_, continued Connie presently, _is now upon the sofa, wedged in between the Chief Ogress and the Assistant Tormentor. She is scared out of her wits, poor thing, but has stood up to the pair of them splendidly so far_. "It was good of you to come down to this poky little corner of the country, Miss Welwyn," Lady Adela was saying, handing Tilly a second cup of tea. "It is so nice when one’s friends take one as they find one, is it not?" Tilly, wide-eyed and quaking, was understood to assent to this proposition. "You live in town, I understand?" continued Lady Adela cautiously. Tilly took a deep breath, and began:-- "Yes--in Russell Square. The house," she continued rapidly, "is very old-fashioned. It belonged to my grandfather. My father inherited from him, and we have lived there ever since we left Cambridge. We have often talked of leaving, but Dad says he can’t bear transplanting at his time of life. So," concluded Tilly, with an hysterical little gasp--Lady Adela and Sylvia were listening with the dispassionate immobility of a pair of well-nourished sphinxes--"we just stay on." _She has confessed that she lives in Bloomsbury_, wrote Mrs. Carmyle. _The Inquisition are one up_. "Russell Square!" cooed Lady Adela. "How charming and old-fashioned! So handy for the British Museum, too!" "And Euston Road!" added Sylvia enthusiastically. _Cats! Cats!! Cats!!!_ recorded Connie furiously. Lady Adela offered Tilly a bun, and resumed her long-distance fire. "You are quite a small family, I imagine?" "Well," began Tilly readily--they had reached a topic that lay very near her heart--"there are Father and Mother, of course, and my brother Percy, and my sister, and two quite tiny ones. My grandmother--" "How nice," murmured Lady Adela indulgently, closing her eyes as if to mitigate the strain of this enumeration. "And what is your little sister’s name?" "Amelia." "Amelia? Delightful! Perfect! It suits Russell Square exactly." "One feels," corroborated Sylvia, "as if the Sedleys and the Osbornes and the Rawdon Crawleys all lived next door." _Why don’t they smack people like Sylvia more in their youth?_ enquired Mrs. Carmyle’s letter plaintively.