Lucia and her guests, with the exception of Sophy Alingsby who continued to play primitive tunes with one finger on the piano, went for a stroll on the Green before lunch. Mrs. Quantock hurried by with averted face, and naturally everybody wanted to know how the Red Queen from Alice in Wonderland was. Lucia amused them by a bright version of poor Daisy’s ouija-board and the story of the mulberry tree. “Such dears they all are,” she said. “But too killing. And then she planted broccoli instead of phlox. It’s only in Riseholme that such things happen. You must all come and stay with me in August, and we’ll enter into the life of the place. I adore it, simply adore it. We are always wildly excited about something.... And next door is Georgie Pillson’s house. A lamb! I’m devoted to him. He does embroidery, and gave those broken bits of glass to the Museum. And that’s dear Olga’s house at the end of the road....” Just as Lucia was kissing her hand to Olga’s house, her eagle eye had seen a motor approaching, and it drew up at Georgie’s house. Two women got out, and there was no doubt whatever who either of them were. They went in at the gate, and he came out of his front door like the cuckoo out of a clock and made a low bow. All this Lucia saw, and though for the moment petrified, she quickly recovered, and turned sharply round. “Well, we must be getting home again,” she said, in a rather strangled voice. “It is lunch-time.” Mr. Merriall did not turn so quickly, but watched the three figures at Georgie’s door. “Appearances are deceptive,” he said. “But isn’t that Olga Shuttleworth and Princess Isabel?” “No! Where?” said Lucia looking in the opposite direction. “Just gone into that house; Georgie Pillson’s, didn’t you say?” “No, really?” said Lucia. “How stupid of me not to have seen them. Shall I pop in now? No, I think I will ring them up presently, unless we find that they have already rung me up.” Lucia was putting a brave face on it, but she was far from easy. It looked like a plot: it did indeed, for Olga had never told her she was coming to Riseholme, and Georgie had never told her that Princess Isabel was the friend she was bringing with her. However, there was lunch-time in which to think over what was to be done. But though she talked incessantly and rather satirically about Riseholme, she said no more about the prima donna and the princess.... * * * * * Lucia might have been gratified (or again she might not) if she had known how vivacious a subject of conversation she afforded at Georgie’s select little luncheon party. Princess Isabel (with her mouth now full of Mrs. Boucher’s tomatoes) had been subjected during this last week to an incessant bombardment from Lucia, and had heard on quite good authority that she alluded to her as “Isabel, dear Princess Isabel.”