"Oh, you want to know about her, do you?" Mr. Garratt said, triumphantly. "Now, why is that?" "I met her at a friend's house when I was in London with father." "Did you? Well, I wouldn't tell Hannah that if I were you; she'd ask them to put up a prayer in chapel for you." "Tell me about Miss Hunstan--she played Lady Teazle--" "Oh, you've heard about Lady Teazle, have you? Well, she was just splendid. You should have seen her chaff that old husband of hers, and the way she held her head when the screen fell. A friend of mine was over in New York when she first came out--fifteen years ago, now; getting on, isn't it?" "What did she do first?" "She walked on, holding up the train of a princess, but she did it with such an air the young fellows used to go in just to look at her. Then Dawson Farley went over there with an English company and spotted her, I suppose, and gave her a small part to play. She was just about your age," Mr. Garratt added, significantly. "People said they were going to be married, and there was a lot of talk about it, but it didn't come off, and she went about the States acting, and became a swell, and he became a swell over here. Now she's over here, too, starring as Lady Teazle. I wonder if she ever sees Dawson Farley?" "Oh yes. I met them both when I was in London; he said they were old friends." "You seem to have done a great deal on that visit of yours, and it only lasted a sandwiched night, I think?" he said, hurrying after her, but handicapped by having to lead his horse. "Did you see Miss Hunstan in anything else?" Margaret asked, taking no notice of his remark. "I saw her once in a mixture performance, got up for a charity--actors and actresses showing off in little bits, you know." "What did she do?" "She recited a poem by an American chap called Field. I dare say you know all about him, being fond of poetry?" "No, I never heard of him." Mr. Garratt was triumphant. "Really! I bought his poems and recited one of them myself at an entertainment we got up for the new chapel at Midhurst--" "Oh!" "I might lend you the book," but she made no answer. "I take a lively interest in most things," he went on, quickly, for he saw that their talk must necessarily come to an end in a moment, "and I should very much enjoy getting a little more conversation with you than I do at present. I think we take a similar view of a good many things. Now, Miss Barton and I take a different one. To tell the truth, I'm not overfond of chapel going and psalm singing. I believe in seeing a bit of life, and London's the place to see it in. I say"--he went up nearer to her--"I wish we were there together, don't you, eh?" and he gave her a little nudge. She stopped and flushed with rage. "No, I do not," she answered, "and you will not touch me again, Mr. Garratt; I dislike people who are too familiar." She rubbed her elbow as if it had been stung, and strode on.