“Are _you_ staying in the house--you two young men?” indicating Geoffrey and Reginald with a fat forefinger. “Yes,” returned Geoffrey, who had taken upon himself the task of answering. “Ah! I do not think I know your face,” to Geoffrey. “Are you in the Manister Bank?” patronisingly. “No, I’m not;” rather sharply. “Do you belong to this part of the country?” “I have not that honour.” Mrs. Blundell gazed at him dreamily for nearly sixty seconds, and then a light seemed to break, for she exclaimed with the triumph of one who has grasped and presents an indisputable fact: “I have it! You are the new young man in the Brewery.” “I am _not_,” returned Geoffrey haughtily, and shouting with impressive distinctness. “I am not in the Brewery; and to save you the trouble of further speculation on my behalf, I may as well inform you that I’m in the cavalry.” “Ah!” There was a world of meaning in that interjection--a meaning no pen could convey. “And he?” indicating Reginald with her sunshade. “Cavalry officer also.” “Two cavalry officers,” she repeated slowly, evidently rehearsing the intelligence for future occasions. If she had said, “Two returned convicts,” her intonation could not have expressed deeper disapproval. Whilst she was gratifying her thirst for information, her friend and Mrs. Mayhew were exchanging platitudes about flowers and fruit, the seasons of the year, and suchlike enthralling topics. They now made a combined effort to include her in their conversation. But it was of no avail; she evidently preferred to draw out Geoffrey, who seemed not merely willing, but delighted to oblige her. Having replenished her cup with politest alacrity, he resumed his seat in front of her _à la Turc_, and looked up at her with an amused twinkle in his mischievous little hazel eyes. “Lady Fairfax is a very pretty young woman,” she remarked to him over her teacup. A nod satisfied her of Geoffrey’s cordial assent. “My son admires her immensely, so do all the gentlemen about here. She is rather what I call a gentleman’s beauty,” she added in a deprecating tone; “but still _I_ think her decidedly good-looking,” with an air that signified that Alice had now, and once for all, received an invaluable _cachet_ of distinction. “Very kind of you, I’m sure,” muttered Geoffrey. “Frederick has been most anxious for me to call ever since he met Lady Fairfax one day out riding; he has been dying to make her acquaintance. He has such an eye for beauty.” “He looks like it,” assented Geoffrey in a cheerful shout. “Be quiet, Geoffrey,” muttered Reginald from behind. “Are you any relation to Lady Fairfax, may I ask?” “Yes, of course I am,” roared Geoffrey. “Both of you? Cousins did you say?” “No, I did not; but I _am_ her cousin.” “As much her cousin as I am,” in a loud aside to her friend, and with a significance baffling all description.