"It's not quite the only house in the neighborhood where there's young company," she retorted sharply. My remark had certainly rather overlooked the claims of Overington Grange. She said no more, perhaps because her fish--my humble self--did not bite, perhaps merely because at that moment the Mayor of Catsford began to make a speech, highly eulogistic of Jenny and all her works. Lady Aspenick listened--or at least looked on (listening was not easy)--with an air which was distinctly critical. Dormer was remarkably jubilant that day--perhaps as a result of his exchange of impressions with Jenny in the hothouses. He danced attendance on her constantly and was evidently only too glad to be seen in her train. Jenny received his homage with the utmost graciousness; he might well flatter himself that he stood high in her favor. There was a familiarity in his manner toward her which grated on my nerves; it had been there from his first meeting with her. It looked as though he thought that her past history gave him an advantage, and entitled him to consider himself a better match for her than he would have been held to be for another woman in her position. Perhaps Jenny would have had no right to resent such an idea; at any rate she showed no signs of resenting his behavior. She let him almost monopolize her--saving the Mayor's official rights--leaving Lacey to the care of Eunice Aspenick and of Margaret. Lacey looked much less happy than might have been expected in such company. He appeared restless and ill at ease. When we were having a smoke together, while the ladies were getting ready for dinner (which was to be eaten hastily and followed by fireworks), I got some light on the cause of his discontent. "It's curious," he observed over his cigar, "how disagreeable girls can manage to be to one another without saying a word that you can lay hold of." "It is," said I. "Who's been exercising the gentle art this afternoon?" "Why, Eunice Aspenick! You saw us three walking together? Well, we must have been walking like that--round the tables, you know--for the best part of an hour. Upon my honor, I don't believe she once addressed a remark directly to Miss Octon! And when Miss Octon spoke to her, she answered through me. And why?" "The tandem whip, I suppose--hereditary feud and that sort of thing." "It's not Miss Octon's fault; it's a shame to make her responsible." "There doesn't seem to be any other reason." He pulled his trim little fair mustache; I rather think that he blushed a little. "I don't like it, and I've a good mind to tell Eunice so. Miss Octon is Miss Driver's guest, just as we are, and on that ground anyhow entitled to civility."