Meanwhile the girls quickly traversed the short distance that separated the Grange from the Rectory, where Helen was coldly greeted by Mrs. Bayden, a hard-featured woman, superficially not at all like her sister either in manner or appearance. Their respective lots in life, too, had been very different. Mrs. Desmond, the only daughter of their father's first wife, had been early adopted by her mother's relations, from whom she had inherited a considerable fortune. Mrs. Bayden was the eldest of a numerous second family, and had married a poor clergyman while still young. All her life had been spent in a struggle with what is perhaps harder than real poverty--the struggle to keep up appearances on a small income. Her husband was a quiet, well-meaning man, entirely wrapt up in his five children, and terribly oppressed by the sameness and monotony of his parish work. He was inclined to be fretful with his wife when things did not run smoothly; but he shifted even his natural responsibilities upon her shoulders, and although a little obstinate at times, like all weak people, he always in the end deferred to her judgment. Mr. and Mrs. Bayden and their two youngest children, Grace and Harold, were in the drawing-room awaiting the girls' arrival, for the luncheon-gong had already sounded before they entered. "I knew we should be late," said Agatha spitefully. "Helen took such a time to beautify herself." "Well, go at once and take off your hats," returned Mrs. Bayden impatiently, "and then come straight to the dining-room." The girls obeyed. Helen, who was suffering from an unusual access of shyness, was very glad to escape the gaze of so many pairs of curious eyes, although the relief was only temporary, for immediately she was seated at the luncheon-table she felt the scrutiny renewed. "Agatha, my child, you look tired," said Mr. Bayden anxiously. The Baydens were always in a tremor over their children's health. "I am tired," remarked Agatha fretfully. There was a diversion while various restoratives were pressed upon Agatha by her parents, and then Mr. Bayden, who was kind-hearted, turned to Helen and asked her how she liked Longford. "I think it is a lovely place," said Helen enthusiastically. Agatha and Grace sniggered, while their elders smiled a little contemptuously. "You don't call this flat country lovely, do you?" asked Mrs. Bayden. "Is it flat?" returned Helen, colouring. "I never thought about that." "Perhaps, mother, Helen will think Dane's End lovely, and will call the open ditch a stream," suggested Agatha. "I only meant," began Helen, "that after London--" "Yes, yes," interposed Mr. Bayden, "of course the country is refreshing after London, and the Grange is pretty. The church, too, is picturesque. You admire our fine old church, don't you?" "Yes," said Helen faintly. She had no eye for architectural beauties, and the scantily-filled church had struck her on Sunday as cold and dreary.