But whatever conclusion Jim may have drawn from her hurried, rather eager entrance, her denial, and her blush, he only said, "Mother and Muriel are upstairs." "I wonder why Muriel didn't come to my room," said Cicely. "I think I'll go and find her." "All right," said Jim, and Cicely went out of the room again. Jim took up a book from a table, turned over a few leaves, and then threw it down and went to the window, where he stood looking out, with his hands in his pockets. By and by Mr. Birket came in, and joined him. "Shame to be indoors on an evening like this," he said. "I should like to dine at nine o'clock in the summer." "What about the servants?" asked Jim. "Ah, yes," said Mr. Birket. "Is it true you are a Free Trader, Graham?" "Yes, I am," said Jim, with a shade of defiance. "So am I," said Mr. Birket. Jim smiled. "Well, you've got to be in your party," he said. "Not at all. It isn't a question of party. It's a question of common-sense." "That's just what I think. I've looked into it with as much intelligence as I'm capable of--they say about here that isn't much--and I can't see why you shouldn't be a Tory as good as any of 'em and still stick to Free Trade." "Nor can I," said Mr. Birket. "But they won't let you. You had better join us, Graham. Anybody with any dawning of sense must be very uncomfortable where you are." "I should be a jolly sight more uncomfortable with you," said Jim. "And I've got keen on the Empire since I've been travelling." "Oh, if you've seen it," said Mr. Birket, somewhat cryptically, and then the door opened, and Mrs. Clinton and Mrs. Birket came in together. Mrs. Birket was a tall, good-looking woman, who held herself upright, was well dressed and well informed. She had a good manner, and in mixed company never allowed a drop in the conversation. But as she talked well this was not so tiresome as it might have been. She was quoted amongst her circle, which was a wide one, as an excellent hostess, and the tribute was deserved, because, in addition to her conversational aptitude, she had the art of looking after her guests without apparent effort. She had been strict with her daughters, but they were now her companions, and devoted to her. Mrs. Clinton talked to her, perhaps more than to any other woman she knew, and the two were friends, although the circumstances of their lives were wide apart. The two ladies were followed by the four girls, who came in chattering, and by Mrs. Graham, who, even in evening clothes, with a necklace of diamonds, looked as if she liked dogs. Then came Humphrey, extraordinarily well dressed, his dark hair very sleek; and Dick, very well dressed too, but with less of a town air; and then the Squire, just upon the stroke of eight, obviously looking forward to his dinner. "Nina, what on earth can have become of Tom and Grace?" he asked when he had greeted Mrs. Graham and Muriel. "No sign of 'em anywhere. We can't wait, you know."