"My dear, you must not jump to conclusions so quickly," remonstrated Mrs Wentworth. "I'm not jumping more quickly than you, mamma," Imogen replied. "You have made up your mind that Miss Forsyth is all that is delightful; _I_ only say I don't think so. I did not at first think I should like Trixie particularly, except that she really met us very kindly. But she seemed to me to have something rather hard about her; only now I understand it." Imogen paused for a moment, as if thinking out something to herself, and that not with perfect satisfaction--"at least I think I do. They don't understand _her_; she wants to be nice and good, I'm sure, but nobody believes her. Major Winchester is dreadfully down upon her, she says; he can't bear girls who are at all loud, you know, or fast. And poor Trixie has no friend to help her at all. She says she does so hope we shall be friends, mamsey." "Yes, dearest, I am sure she will learn nothing but good from you," said Mrs Wentworth, well pleased. "It is very evident that he appreciates Imogen already," she added, to herself with a little thrill of maternal pride. "But, darling, we must be quick. I do hope the luncheon bell hasn't gone without us hearing it, and I'm half afraid I don't remember the way to the dining-room." "We needn't go straight there," said Imogen. "Trixie said we should find some of them in the morning-room. You look quite right, mamsey; you do really. But oh dear! I do wish we hadn't arrived before our luggage and Colman, my boots do clump so. Trixie offered to lend me a pair of shoes, but I could see hers would be too big, so I said I didn't mind keeping on my boots." "Your feet are so tiny; just the least little atom longer than mine," said her mother, with an amusing mixture of admiration and self-complacency. "And mine were always spoken of as _quite_ extraordinary. Your dear father used to wonder how I could walk upon them." "Well, in India that didn't matter much, as nobody ever does walk--not what _I_ call walking," Imogen remarked. And thus chattering, with the real though unavowed motive of keeping up their courage and keeping down their shyness, the mother and daughter slowly descended the great wide shallow-stepped staircase which led to the hall. CHAPTER FIVE. THE DUTIES OF HOSPITALITY. They heard voices in the direction of the morning-room, so thither they turned their steps. The morning-room opened at one side into the large dining-room, on the other into the library. The doors of communication between all these were now open, and bright fires were burning in each. To Imogen, at the first glance, it seemed as if the rooms were filled with people, for the moving about and laughing and talking that were going on had a confusing effect upon her; she had scarcely time to do more than glance round her bewilderedly when the luncheon gong sounded, and universal making for the door ensued.