"Cousin Mary Leicester?" said the Duchess. "Well, she was rather an oddity. She was Low Church, like my mother-in-law; but, oh, so much nicer! Once I let her come to Grosvenor Square and speak to the servants about going to church. The groom of the chambers said she was 'a dear old lady, and if she were _his_ cousin he wouldn't mind her being a bit touched,' My maid said she had no idea poke-bonnets could be so _sweet_. It made her understand what the Queen looked like when she was young. And none of them have ever been to church since that I can make out. There was one very curious thing about Cousin Mary Leicester," added the Duchess, slowly--"she had second sight. She _saw_ her old mother, in this room, once or twice, after she had been dead for years. And she saw Freddie once, when he was away on a long voyage--" "Ghosts, too!" said Julie, crossing her hands before her with a little shiver--"that completes it." "Sixty years," said the Duchess, musing. "It was a long time--wasn't it?--to live in this little house, and scarcely ever leave it. Oh, she had quite a circle of her own. For many years her funny little sister lived here, too. And there was a time, Freddie says, when there was almost a rivalry between them and two other famous old ladies who lived in Bruton Street--what _was_ their name? Oh, the Miss Berrys! Horace Walpole's Miss Berrys. All sorts of famous people, I believe, have sat in these chairs. But the Miss Berrys won." "Not in years? Cousin Mary outlived them."