Erica's appearance at Lady Caroline's dinner party had caused a sort of storm in a tea cup; the small world of Greyshot was in a state of ferment, and poor Mrs. Fane-Smith suffered a good deal from the consciousness that she and her family were the subject of all the gossip of the place. Her little expedients had failed, and she began to reflect ruefully that perfect sincerity, plain honesty, would have been the best policy, after all. By the time that a week had passed, however, censure and harsh comments began to give place to curiosity, and the result of this was that on Monday, which was Mrs. Fane-Smith's “at home” day, Greyshot found it convenient to call in large numbers. Erica, returning from Oakdene in the afternoon, found her work awaiting her. Her heart beat rather quickly when, on entering the drawing room she found it full of visitors; she half smiled to herself to find such an opportunity of beginning Donovan's work. And very bravely she set about it. Those who had come from curiosity not unmixed with malice were won in spite of themselves; even Mr. Cuthbert, who bore down upon her with the full intention of making her uncomfortable, found himself checkmated as effectually as at Lady Caroline's dinner table, though in a very different way. “I think I saw you in church yesterday morning!” he remarked, by way of introducing a discordant subject. “Yes,” replied Erica, “I have been staying at Oakdene Manor, and had a most delicious time.” “Sharing Mr. Farrant's philanthropic labors?” asked Mr. Cuthbert, with his unpleasant smile. She laughed. “No; I have been thoroughly lazy, and September is their holiday month, too. You would have been amused to see us the other evening all hard at work making paper frogs like so many children.” “Paper frogs!” said Mr. Cuthbert, with an intonation that suggested sarcasm. “Yes; have you ever seen them?” asked Erica. “I don't think many people know how to make them. Feltrino taught me when I was a little girl I'll show you, if you like.” “Did you ever meet Feltrino?” asked Lady Caroline. She knew very little of the Italian patriot. In his life time he had been despised and rejected, but he was now dead; his biography a well-written one was in all the circulating libraries, and even those who were far from agreeing with his political views, had learned something of the nobility of his character. So there was both surprise and envy in Lady Caroline's tone; she had a weakness for celebrities.