In this babble the rest of the mid-day meal was carried on, Stella’s voice flowing like the principal part of the entertainment, interrupted now and then by a bass note from her husband or a little cry from her child, with a question to a servant and the respectful answer in an aside now and then. Katherine sat quite silent listening, not so much from intention as that there was no room for her to put in a word, and no apparent need for any explanation or intervention. The Somerses took calm possession, unsurprised, undisturbed by any question of right or wrong, of kindness or unkindness. Nor did Katherine blame them; she felt that they would have done exactly the same had the house and all that was in it been hers, and the real circumstances of the case made it more bearable and took away many embarrassments. She went out to drive with Stella in the afternoon, Sir Charles accompanying them that he might see whether the carriage horses were fit for his wife’s use. Stella had been partly covered with Katherine’s garments to make her presentable, and the little crape bonnet perched upon her fuzzy fair hair was happily very becoming, and satisfied her as to her own appearance. “Mourning’s not so very bad, after all,” she said, “especially when you are very fair. You are a little too dark to look nice in it, Kate. I shouldn’t advise you to wear crape long. It isn’t at all necessary; the rule now is crape three months, black six, and then you can go into greys and mauves. Mauve’s a lovely colour. It is just as bright as pink, though it’s mourning; and it suits me down to the ground--I am so fair, don’t you know.” “These brutes will never do,” said Sir Charles. “Is this the pace you have been going, Miss Kate? Stella will not stand it, that’s clear. Not a likely person to nod along like a hearse or an old dowager, is she?--and cost just as much, the old fat brutes, as a proper turn-out.” “It’s the same old landau, I declare,” cried Stella, “that we used to cram with people for picnics and dances and things. Mine was the victoria. Have you kept the victoria all the time, Kate? Jervis made it spin along I can tell you. And the little brougham I used to run about in, that took us down to the yacht, don’t you remember, Charlie, that last night; me in my wedding dress, though nobody suspected it--that is, nobody but those that knew. What a lot there were, though,” cried Stella, with a laugh, “that knew!--and what a dreadful bore, Kate, when you would insist upon coming with me, and everybody guessing and wondering how we’d get out of it. We did get out of it capitally, didn’t we, all owing to my presence of mind.”