He had been to so many afternoon tea-parties of late that he felt as if handing cups and saucers and cream and sugar were a kind of speciality with him. In Suffolk he had never troubled about these things. His time had been taken up with shooting or fishing. He had allowed all social amenities to be performed by his mother, unaided by him. At Matcham he had become a new being, a person to be called upon and to return calls, with all the punctiliousness of a popular curate. He wondered at himself as he accomplished these novel duties. Mrs. Wornock began to talk to Suzette, constrainedly at first, but the girl's frank vivacity soon put her at her ease, and then Allan joined in the conversation, and in a few minutes they were all three on the friendliest terms, although the elder lady gradually dropped out of the conversation, save for a word or two now and then when addressed by the other two. She seemed content to sit by and listen while those two talked, as much interested in them as they were interested in each other. She was quick to perceive Allan's subjugation, quick to understand that he was surrendering himself without a struggle to the fascination of a girl who was not quite as other girls, who had nothing hackneyed or conventional in person or manner. After tea, they all went round the lawn, headed by Mrs. Mornington, to look at her roses and carnations, flowers which were her peculiar pride and care. "If I had such a garden as yours--a day-dream in gardens--I don't suppose I should take any trouble about a few beds of dwarf-roses and picotees," she said to Mrs. Wornock; "but these flower-beds are all I have to console me for the Philistinism of my surroundings." "Oh, but you have a really fine shrubbery," urged Allan, remembering that promenade of the other night among the lights and shadows, and the perfume of dewy conifers. "That belt of deodara and arbutus and rhododendrons, and this fine expanse of level lawn ought to satisfy any lady's ambition." "No doubt. This garden of mine always reminds me of the Church catechism. It suggests that state of life to which it has pleased God to call me--an eminently respectable, upper middle-class garden, fifty years old at most; while the grounds at Discombe carry one back three centuries, and one expects to meet fine gentlemen in ruffs and doublets, with roses on their shoes, and talking like that book whose name I forget, or abusing the new and detestable custom of smoking tobacco. You will be in love with Mrs. Wornock's garden, Suzette, and will give up all idea of improving the Marsh House flower-beds." "No, I shan't give up, however much I may admire," protested Suzette, sturdily. "If I had only a cottage garden, I would toil early and late to make it beautiful."