In this, however, she was not alone. Half the ladies were interested about him; his manners were charming, his voice in church beautiful, and his destination as chaplain to a missionary bishop made him doubly interesting; while he himself, even though his mind was set on higher things, was really enjoying his brief holiday, and his sister, Mrs. Henderson, was delighted to promote his pleasure, and garden parties and the like flourished as long as weather permitted; and as Vera was a champion player, she was sure to be asked to the tournaments, and to have to practise for them. Inopportunely there arrived a letter from Hubert, requiring an answer about the form of ornament in the moulding of the fourteenth century! Paula dutifully went to the library, looked out and traced two or three examples, French and English. Nothing remained but for Vera to write the letter after the early dinner. However, she went to sleep in a hammock, and only roused herself to recollect that there was to be tea and lawn tennis at Carrara. “Won’t you just write to Hubert first?” “Oh, bother, how can I now? Don’t worry so!” “But, Flapsy, he really needs it without loss of time.” “I’m sure he has no right to make me his clerk in that horrid peremptory way, as if one had nothing else to do but wait on his fads.” “Flapsy, how can you?” broke out even Thekla. “Surely it is the greatest honour,” said Paula. “Well, do it yourself then, I’m not going to be bothered for ever.” Thekla went off, in great indignation, to beg “sister” to speak to Flapsy, and beg her not to use dear Hubert so very very badly, which of course Magdalen refused to do, and Thekla had her first lesson on the futility of interfering with engaged folk; Paula meanwhile sent off the despatch, with one line to say that Vera was too busy to write that day. There had been two or three letters from Hubert, over which Vera had looked cross, but had said nothing; and at last she came down from her own room, and announced passionately, “There! I have done with Mr. Hubert Delrio, and have written to tell him so!” “Vera, what have you done?” “Written to tell him I have no notion of a man being so tiresome and dictatorial! I don’t want a schoolmaster to lecture me, and expect me to drudge over his work as if I was his clerk.” “My dear,” said Magdalen, “have you had a letter that vexed you? Had you not better wait a little to think it over?” “No! Nonsense, Maidie! He has been provoking ever so long, and I won’t bear it any longer!” and she flounced into a chair. “Provoking! Hubert!” was all Paulina could utter, in her amazement and horror. “Oh, I daresay you would like it well enough! Always at me to slave for him with stupid architectural drawings and stuff, as if I was only a sort of clerk or fag! And boring me to read great dull books, and preaching to me about them, expecting to know what I think! Dear me!” “Those nice letters!” sighed Paula.