The speaker was Betty Leven, who had just arrived at Maxwell Court, and was sitting with her hostess under the cedars in front of the magnificent Caroline mansion, which it was the never-ending task of Marcella's life to bring somehow into a democratic scheme of things. A still September afternoon, lightly charged with autumn mists, lay gently on the hollows of the park. Betty was in her liveliest mood and her gayest dress. Her hat, a marvel in poppies, was perched high upon no less ingenious waves and frettings of hair. Her straw-coloured gown, which was only simple for the untrained eye, gave added youth even to her childish figure; and her very feet, clothed in the smallest and most preposterous of shoes, had something merry and provocative about them, as they lay crossed upon the wooden footstool Marcella had pushed towards her. The remark just quoted followed upon one made by her hostess, to the effect that Lady Tressady would be down to tea shortly. "Now, Betty," said Marcella, seriously, though she laughed, "I meant to have a few words with you on this subject first thing--let's have them. Do you want to be very kind to me, or do you ever want me to be very nice to you?" Betty considered. "You can't do half as much for me now as you once could, now that Frank's going to leave Parliament," she remarked, with as much worldly wisdom as her face allowed. "Nevertheless, the quality of my nature is such that, sometimes, I might even be nice to you for nothing. But information before benevolence--why have you got her here?" "Because she was fagged and unhappy in London, and her husband had gone to take his mother abroad, after first doing Maxwell a great kindness," said Marcella,--not, however, without embarrassment, as Betty saw,--"and I want you to be kind to her." "Reasons one and two no reasons at all," said Betty, meditating; "and the third wants examining. You mean that George Tressady went after Ancoats?" Marcella raised her shoulders, and was silent. "If you are going to be stuffy and mysterious," said Betty, with vivacity, "you know what sort of a hedgehog I can be. How can you expect me to be nice to Letty Tressady unless you make it worth my while?" "Betty, you infant! Well, then, he did go after Ancoats--got him safely away from Trouville, brought him to Paris to join Mrs. Allison, and, in general, has laid us all under very great obligations. Meanwhile, she was very much tired out with nursing her mother-in-law--" "Oh, and such a mother-in-law--such a jewel!" ejaculated Betty. "And I brought her down here to rest, till he should come back from Wildheim and take her home. He will probably be here to-night." The speaker reddened unconsciously during her story, a fact not lost on Betty. "Well, I knew most of that before," said Betty, quietly. "And what sort of a time have you been having this ten days?" "I have been very glad to have her here," came the quick reply. "I ought to have known her long ago."