Kind-hearted Mrs. Lepell had compassion on the original "V.C." and drove her home with her in the victoria (in order to save her from her relatives), and Brian Salwey occupied the front seat. They were a somewhat silent trio, but as they passed the Chandos family in the wagonette, their chattering resembled nothing so much as a party of excited jackdaws! * * * * * The next day Verona did not attend the meeting; Pussy was chaperoned by her sister Blanche, and Dominga was the triumphant companion of Mrs. Barwell. Mrs. Chandos was far too much occupied with preparations for Sunday's tiffin to spare time for any relaxation. The entertainment was to be on a sumptuous scale; she went into the bazaar herself, and bought candied fruit, _pâté de fois gras_, and a fine Europe ham! (in spite of her chaffering, the latter was an expensive item); it was all to find favour in the eyes of Verona's lover; but if he would only marry the girl, and take her off her hands, the Europe ham would be a well invested outlay. Whilst Mrs. Chandos was bargaining in the bazaar, Verona was sitting with her grandmother in the garden, reading--as the old lady's eager, but unaccustomed fingers manufactured a woollen necktie. It was the hour of sunset; birds were squabbling for the best branches--an artesian well was sending up its final creak--a native was droning as he shuffled down the road--the smell of wood smoke was in the air. Mrs. Lopez, who had been buried in thought, now suddenly put down her knitting and said: "Well, so you have been here nearly six months, Verona! and you have wrought changes. Pussy is improved, so is Nicky; Dom copies the way you speak, and move; and your father, too, he is different; but you must not make him too content. No, no, no!" "But why not, Nani?" she inquired, with a smile. "Because, though your talk is to him as water to a parched-up plant, yet I must give you a word of warning. Your mother is a leetle, leetle jealous; she cannot help it, poor girl! but these talks, and readings, and games are not to her taste. No, no! sometimes when you are sitting with your father, she is walking up and down the verandah--oh, quite mad! I have seen her face! No, no, it is not good to look at. So, my dear child, once a week for these readings--will be plenty--no more."