Mrs. Hesketh, a widowed cousin who lived in the only other ‘house’ in the village, carefully removed her heavy sables before she replied. “I should think, Tom, that you are used to that by this time. Had you had a good day?” “Ripping!” “Many out?” “Oh, the usual lot, and Hugo Blagdon. By Jove! he does have wonderful cattle. I hear he pays as much as five hundred for a hunter. Yes, and he can ride them too,” he added with unusual generosity. “But what brings him over to this side?” enquired Mrs. Hesketh with languid curiosity. “He’s only staying at the ‘Black Cock’ at Ridgefield for a week or so--it’s more central than Sharsley. Sharsley is a good bit out of the way for everything; seven miles from a railway station--monstrous, isn’t it in these days?” “Yes, but we need not boast. Sharsley is a lovely old place; I shouldn’t mind living there myself!” “No,” he answered with a laugh; “and a heap of other ladies will say ditto to Mrs. Hesketh, eh, Doodie?” appealing to his wife. “I can’t think what’s keeping her,” was the irrelevant reply. Mrs. Hesketh stared at her cousin with grave-eyed interrogation. “Oh, I mean Letty Glyn, Tom’s niece, you know, Maudie. Didn’t I tell you that we expect her this evening, by the two o’clock from St. Pancras?” “So you did; and she is coming to stay for some time?” “To live with us altogether,” eagerly amended Colonel Fenchurch. “She is an orphan, the daughter of my poor sister Kathleen.” Mrs. Hesketh glanced from him to his wife, but Mrs. Fenchurch’s expression was blank and noncommittal; she rose, walked to the fire, and brushed the crumbs from her habit into the fender. “We are her only relations,” continued Colonel Fenchurch. “Except her father’s people, who are paupers,” corrected a thin, high-pitched treble from the fire-place. “Irish paupers--with nothing to live on but family pride.” “If she is like my poor sister, she ought to be a beauty,” urged her uncle, and his tone was anxious and conciliatory. “She was some way from _that_ when we last saw her,” declared his wife, turning to face them; “a long-legged creature, with a pair of sunken eyes and quantities of tousled hair. Of course, she may have improved,” she added tolerantly; “and,” with a glance at her husband’s chiselled profile, “I hope she will take after the Fenchurch family. A girl with a pretty face does get such a splendid start.” “She does,” agreed Mrs. Hesketh, whose own beautiful face had been her fortune; “but if she hasn’t something to back it up in the way of character, or brains, or charm,--it’s not so much of a start, after all.” “Hullo--wheels!” announced Colonel Fenchurch. “Here she is!” and he dashed into the hall. “I think I ought to go,” murmured the visitor, reaching for her boa; “this is a family affair,” she added with a smile.