In the absence of a servant, Molly was half inclined to let the visitor knock in vain. But, after all, a visit paid at such an hour could hardly be one of ceremony. Most likely the old thing wanted to ask her for a subscription: she would surely not presume to talk religion to her when she was informed of her rank. Determined to put the intruder in her place at once, Molly went leisurely to the door and threw it open. “Do you want to see me?” she asked roughly. Caroline gazed at the pretty painted face that she had brought herself to believe had been her boy’s undoing, and there was not much relenting in the gaze. “Are you my son’s wife?” she returned, with gravity. Molly was taken aback. The idea that this old person, evidently a familiar figure in the court, should be the mother of Lord Alistair quite confused her for an instant. “Are you the Duchess of Trent?” she stammered, with a shamefaced recollection of certain correspondence that had once passed between them. “I am Alistair’s mother,” was the response. “Is he here?” “He has gone out,” said Molly. Then, realizing that she was standing in the doorway, and that the interview was being watched by a number of curious eyes, she drew aside hastily. “But won’t you come inside?” “I will, thank you.” The Duchess walked in with great deliberation, and seated herself, upright and stately, in Molly’s own chair, exactly as she was accustomed to do in one of her poor people’s cottages when about to admonish a drunken husband or a slatternly wife. The poor people, who knew that the lecture was really an excuse offered by the Duchess to her own conscience for the forgiveness and solid kindness that were to follow, always listened meekly enough. Unfortunately Molly did not know anything except that she was on her defence. These court martial airs roused her spirit, and she sailed across the room with a flushed face, and cast herself down with insolent negligence on the settle. “I have been a district visitor in this neighbourhood for some years. I don’t know whether you were aware of it when you took this house.” “No,” said Molly, “I wasn’t. But I don’t think I should have had any objection.” The Duchess frowned. She had come, not prepared to make peace, perhaps, but disposed to entertain a truce. Now the enemy seemed not to desire either peace or truce. “I asked because I could not understand my son’s choice of such a residence. Does he really mean to stay here?” “You must ask him that. I suppose he will leave it when I do--not before.” The Duchess, routed from her own position, was obliged to accept Molly’s. “Why have you brought him here? Do you wish him to forfeit his place in society altogether?” “I don’t know what society you mean. Our friends are visiting us here as usual, and they think the place charming. If it keeps away frumps and bores, so much the better.”