The book that Aunt Bella had brought her was called _The Triumph Over Midian_, and Aunt Bella said that if she was a good girl it would interest her. But it did not interest her. That was how she heard Aunt Bella and Mamma talking together. Mamma's foot was tapping on the footstool, which showed that she was annoyed. "They're coming to-morrow," she said, "to look at that house at Ilford." "To live?" Aunt Bella said. "To live," Mamma said. "And is Emilius going to allow it? What's Victor thinking of, bringing her down here?" "They want to be near Emilius. They think he'll look after her." "It was Victor who _would_ have her at home, and Victor might look after her himself. She was his favourite sister." "He doesn't want to be too responsible. They think Emilius ought to take his share." Aunt Bella whispered something. And Mamma said, "Stuff and nonsense! No more than you or I. Only you never know what queer thing she'll do next." Aunt Bella said, "She was always queer as long as I remember her." Mamma's foot went tap, tap again. "She's been sending away things worse than ever. Dolls. Those naked ones." Aunt Bella gave herself a shake and said something that sounded like "Goo-oo-sh!" And then, "Going to be married?" Mamma said, "Going to be married." And Aunt Bella said "T-t-t." They were talking about Aunt Charlotte. Mamma went on: "She's packed off all her clothes. Her new ones. Sent them to Matilda. Thinks she won't have to wear them any more." "You mustn't expect me to have Charlotte Olivier in my house," Aunt Bella said. "If anybody came to call it would be most unpleasant." "I wouldn't mind," Mamma said, tap-tapping, "if it was only Charlotte. But there's Lavvy and her Opinions." Aunt Bella said "Pfoo-oof!" and waved her hands as if she were clearing the air. "All I can say is," Mamma said, "that if Lavvy Olivier brings her Opinions into this house Emilius and I will walk out of it." To-morrow--they were coming to-morrow, Uncle Victor and Aunt Lavvy and Aunt Charlotte. II. They were coming to lunch, and everybody was excited. Mark and Dank were in their trousers and Eton jackets, and Roddy in his new black velvet suit. The drawing-room was dressed out in its green summer chintzes that shone and crackled with glaze. Mamma had moved the big Chinese bowl from the cabinet to the round mahogany table and filled it with white roses. You could see them again in the polish; blurred white faces swimming on the dark, wine-coloured pool. You held out your face to be washed in the clear, cool scent of the white roses. When Mark opened the door a smell of roast chicken came up the kitchen stairs. It was like Sunday, except that you were excited. "Look at Papa," Roddy whispered. "Papa's excited."