When the papers were settling down, Janet, the maid, came in to say there was a gentleman in the drawing-room, and in the confusion of the new whirlwind her entrance raised Janet was gone before any one knew who the gentleman was. "Ugh!" Margaret grumbled. "I never can be allowed to read in peace." "I was practising the Mendelssohn trio, Mother," said Monica, reproachfully. "Let us all practise. Let us all practise," Mrs. Grey proposed, beaming enthusiastically upon her daughters. "That would be charming." "Father is so sweet," said Pauline. "He's simply covered with mud." "Has he got his kneeler?" asked Mrs. Grey. Pauline rushed to the window again. "Mother says 'have you got your kneeler?'" The Rector paused vaguely, and Birdwood tried to indicate by kicking himself that he had the kneeler. "Ah, thoughtful Birdwood," said Mrs. Grey in a satisfied voice. "And now do you think we might have the window shut?" asked Margaret, resignedly. Monica was quite deliberately thumping at the piano part she was practising. Mrs. Grey sat down and began to tell a long story in which three poor people of Wychford got curiously blended somehow into one, so that Pauline, who was the only daughter that ever listened, became very sympathetic over a fourth poor person who had nothing to do with the tale. "And surely Janet came in to say something about the drawing-room," said Mrs. Grey, as she finished. "She said a gentleman," Pauline declared. "Oh, how vague you all are!" exclaimed Margaret, jumping up. "Well, Margaret, you were here," Pauline said. "And so was Monica." "But I was practising," said Monica, primly. "And I didn't hear a word Janet said." There was always this preliminary confusion at the Rectory when a stranger was announced, and it always ended in the same way by Mrs. Grey and Monica going down first, by Pauline rushing after them and banging the door as they were greeting the visitor, and by Margaret strolling in when the stage of comparative ease had been attained. So it fell out on this occasion, for Monica's skirt was just disappearing round the drawing-room door when Pauline, horrified at the idea of having to come in by herself, cleared the last three stairs of the billowy flight with a leap and sent Monica spinning forward as the door propelled her into the room. "Monica, I am so sorry." "Pauline! Pauline!" said Mrs. Grey, reprovingly. "So like an avalanche always." Guy, who had by now been waiting nearly a quarter of an hour, came forward a little shyly. "How d'ye do, how d'ye do," said Mrs. Grey, quickly and nervously. "We're so delighted to see you. So good of you ... charming really. Pauline is always impetuous. You've come to study farming at Wychford, haven't you? Most interesting. Don't tug at me, Pauline. Monica, do ring for tea. Are you fond of music?"