‘The type of Miss Sandford,’ said Percy: ‘I don’t mean anything silly.’ He spoke with an impatience which was not unhabitual, for Percy was one of those who think it the fault of the other people when he is not immediately understood. ‘You had better go and see her for yourself--indeed, good manners demand that you should do so, and show yourself civil, you and Elly too.’ Mrs. Egerton looked at him for a moment, not sure whether she ought to be angry: but policy and good humour won the day, and she laughed. ‘You lay down my duty for me very distinctly,’ she said. ‘You forget that my manners were formed before you were born. But I shall certainly go and see Miss Sandford--brought up among sick people and in hospital duties as she has been, a little change must be important for her.’ Women perhaps have the gift of showing a muffled claw like this better than men. Percy was exasperated to have the stranger spoken of as a hospital nurse, but he had not an opening to say a word. ‘Poor thing,’ Mrs. Egerton added, ‘it must be a trying life. I daresay the mere sight of people who have nothing the matter with them will do her good. Certainly I shall go. Oh, Mr. Cattley,’ said she, as the curate opened the door, ‘you have just come in time. I gave Percy a commission last night which he has not been able to carry out. Perhaps I might ask you----’ ‘You know,’ said Mr. Cattley, ‘that what you wish is a law to me.’ ‘Not that,’ she said, with a faint, rising colour, ‘but this is a very delicate matter, out of the ordinary. It is to prevent further unhappiness: it is for the real good of two young creatures, who are almost as dear to you, I believe, as they are to me.’ ‘What is it?’ he said. Mr. Cattley was a little grey by nature, with no perceptible colour, but he warmed slightly with the interest of this mysterious office which was about to be conferred upon him. ‘It is about John and Elly,’ Mrs. Egerton said. ‘What,’ cried the curate, ‘have they----?’ with a gleam of animation, which faded, however, when he saw that his oracle shook her head; but it was very evident which way Mr. Cattley’s sympathies went. ‘I don’t know if I can trust you, after all. Mr. Cattley, you know Jack--though he is a charming boy, and was almost like one of ourselves as long as he was living here--still he is not in the same position, is he? Not perhaps quite so well educated and all that--not--a gentleman, as people say.’ ‘Yes, I am sure he is a gentleman,’ said Mr. Cattley, quietly. ‘In heart and in manners, oh, yes. He is very nice; he is full of good impulses, and his manners, for his position, are very nice. But, Mr. Cattley, there is something more--really, you must acknowledge something more is necessary.’ ‘For what?’ he said.