'Any relation to the Holwoods of Lambton? The late Hon. Mrs. Holwood was, as you may――as, of course, you do not know――was a daughter of Viscount Finnborough. A family――that of Finnborough――of affluence, but what is better, of antiquity and distinction.' Neither Mrs. Jose nor Winefred could answer this question. 'I hope,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, after a pause, 'I hope you have not felt cold. We do not usually put a light to the fire till the afternoon when we expect visitors. Perhaps you will do me the favour of coming into the dining-room, in which we ordinarily sit――at all events of a morning. The room is more cheerful, and the young ladies are there. I myself feel shivery in this reception room, and am obliged to be careful about my health. My dear doctor laid it on me to avoid sitting in cold rooms, specially at this time of year. You will, I know, oblige me. You will be pleased, Miss Holwood, to make the acquaintance of my daughters, and they are ardent in their desire to make yours.' She rose. 'Excuse me if I lead the way. The staircase is objectionably narrow, two can hardly descend together, which is an inconvenience at dinner-parties, but since my bereavement, since the irrevocable loss I have endured, I have not had the spirits to entertain. My daughters, no doubt, would prefer a more distinguished and ampler residence, and perhaps――but this serves temporarily, temporarily you understand――though I believe the doctor, had he lived, would not have sanctioned it. We have a position, you comprehend, that ought to be kept up. Allow me――this is the door.' She threw it open, and a blast of colour smote in the faces of those entering. The dining-room had a red flock paper on the walls, and dull crimson-red curtains at the window. The Turkey carpet was covered with red drugget. The furniture was of cumbrous mahogany and leather. On the black marble mantelshelf was a black marble clock. The sideboard was heavy and too large for the room. The sole picture on the walls was the portrait, very flat, of the late Dr. Tomkin-Jones, in a black suit and white cravat and pasty face against a background of red curtains. 'My daughters, Sylvana and Jesse,' said Mrs. Jones; and two young women, who had been crouching over a very small fire in a very elevated grate, rose. The elder was somewhat like her mother, but had her father's cadaverous complexion and a spiteful expression. The younger, Jesse, was pleasant-looking and almost pretty. 'My dears,' said Mrs. Tomkin-Jones, 'I need not introduce you to our good friend and remote kinswoman, Mrs. Jose, who sends us at Christmas such excellent hams and geese and all kinds of good things. But I beg to introduce Miss Holwood, who belongs to the Lambton family you know, connected with the Finnboroughs, whose carriage and liveries, brown turned up with scarlet, you are so familiar with.' Sylvana rose frigidly and inclined her head, but Jesse darted forward, caught Mrs. Jose in her arms and kissed her.