A fresh cloth was on the table in the living-room, there was a vase of flowers in the middle, the best china was put out, and fresh-cooked scones and other good things were visible. Near the fireplace stood Hannah, looking a little defiant and rather shamefaced. Margaret noticed that her hair was brushed back tighter than ever and shone more than usual. At her neck was a bow of muslin and lace, of which she seemed uncomfortably conscious. Beside her, brisk and business-like, with a happy, self-satisfied expression on his face, stood a youthful-looking man of eight-and-twenty. He was fair and had a smart air with him. His hair was carefully parted in the middle and curled a little at the tips. He had a small mustache, which he stroked a great deal and pulled back towards his ears. He wore a cutaway coat and a navy-blue tie with white spots on it, and a gold watch-chain wandered over his waistcoat. Margaret saw in a moment that he was altogether different from the men who were her father's friends--from Mr. Carringford, for instance, or Sir George Stringer, with whom she had felt natural and at home. There was something about this man that made her haughty and on the defensive even before she had spoken to him. "Your train must have been late. Tea's been waiting this long time," Hannah said. "However, it's to be hoped you've enjoyed yourselves." Her manner was quite amiable, but a little confused, as was only to be expected. "This is Mr. Garratt," Mrs. Vincent said. "You will like to meet him, father; he has always known James's people at Petersfield." "How do you do, sir; pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure," Mr. Garratt said. "I hope you've had a pleasant visit to London?" "How do you do?" Mr. Vincent answered, wondering whether this lively young man could really be in love with the sedate Hannah. "And Miss Vincent, I'm pleased to meet you," Mr. Garratt went on, in a genial tone. "Have often heard of you, and hope you've enjoyed yourself since you've been away." "Yes, thank you," Margaret answered, distantly. "I dare say you've come back ready for your tea." This was by way of a little joke. "There's nothing like a railway journey, with the country at the end of it, for starting an appetite," to which she vouchsafed no reply, feeling instinctively that it would be wise to keep Mr. Garratt at a distance. Then the business of tea was entered upon, reflectively, and almost in silence, as was the custom at Woodside Farm. The silence puzzled Mr. Garratt a little, this being his first visit; then he wondered if it were a compliment to himself, and whether these quiet people were shy before him. "Is there much doing in London?" he asked Mr. Vincent, thinking perhaps that he was expected to lead the conversation. "I suppose so," Mr. Vincent answered, a little coldly. "I always think myself that it does one good to go up. I dare say you find the same? Did you stay at one of the hotels in the Strand?" "We stayed at the Langham."