“Oh, yes, and so I do; and perhaps there will be some more people by-and-by whom I shall like better. But I was rather glad to be rid of Sheila this afternoon, as it happens; for the two Miss Murchisons are coming to tea. I always enjoy them most alone. We like the same things, and Sheila doesn’t. She spoils it by making nonsense of everything.” Mrs. Cossart did not reply; she had never opposed her daughter in any of her plans, and did not like to begin now; but as a matter of fact the two Miss Murchisons were by no means the companions she would have selected for her. They were pleasant girls enough, but their father was a tradesman in Leeds in a good way of business; and though everybody in the hotel was kind and civil to them, they were not in the swim in any sense of the word. One of the pair was delicate, and perhaps that had formed a bond. She could not play tennis, or go down in the evening to play in the billiard-room, or scramble up the steep roads either on foot or on horseback. Anyhow, Effie had taken a fancy to these girls, and would have them to her rooms, or go to theirs and spend hours in talking. Mrs. Cossart got an impression that they mutually told each other every detail of their respective illnesses, and all they had gone through; and she was beginning to understand that that sort of talk was bad for Effie; yet having herself encouraged it for so many years, she found it very difficult either to break herself of the habit or to break it in Effie. The guests, in fact, appeared almost before there was time for more words, and Effie visibly brightened. Mrs. Cossart lingered awhile listening to the talk; but presently she betook herself to the garden to find her husband, who was greatly enjoying the easy life in the exquisite climate, where it was never cold and seldom too hot, and where he could sit out in sunshine or shade with his paper and pipe from morning to night, enjoying interludes of talk and friendly gossip with other elderly gentlemen of like tastes and habits. They wandered about a little and finally betook themselves to the level garden outside the front door, and before long there was a clatter of horse-hoofs, and the riding party returned. Sheila, as usual, was bubbling over with fun, and her gay laugh rang out again and again as she dismounted and came along with Ronald in attendance. “Thank you so much, Lady Dumaresq, it has been a delightful ride!” she cried, turning back towards their companion who was bringing up the rear more slowly. “What dear, little, plucky horses they are, though they do pull! They do like to get off the cobbles on to a proper road. And what a funny little village that is at the end of the road! Didn’t the people look wild and queer?”