Lady Errington, on the other hand, still preserved her appearance of fragility and her air of calmness, forming with her reposeful manner a great contrast to her husband, who was bubbling over with excitement and looked like a happy schoolboy out on his holiday. "Here we are, Aunt Jelly," he said in his loud, hearty voice, kissing his elderly relation, "back from foreign parts and glad to be home once more. Don't you think Alizon is looking well?" "I don't know yet," replied Aunt Jelly sharply, with a keen look at the young couple. "Come here, my dear, and give me a kiss." Alizon had a horror of feminine embraces, and always skilfully avoided demonstrative friends, but from this direct command there was no possibility of escaping, so she submitted to the ordeal with the best grace she could and then took her seat near Miss Corbin, while Guy went to the end of the room to shake hands with Minnie Pelch. "Well, Miss Pelch, and how are you? Jolly, eh!--ah, that's right. Been writing any more poetry? By Jove, you're quite a literary person." Minnie smiled faintly at this compliment and glanced rather disapprovingly at Guy, who was far too healthy and English-looking to resemble her favourite heroes of the Manfred-Lara type, who all had pale faces, raven hair, and no morals. Guy, however, having done his duty towards his aunt's companion, wandered back to that redoubtable lady and sat down by his wife. Being thus placed before the judge, Aunt Jelly commenced to cross-examine them both in her own brusque way. "Well, Guy," she said, resuming her knitting, "now you've idled away so many months on the Continent, I hope you've come back to look after your property once more." "Of course I have, aunt. We would have been back long ago, but Alizon was in love with the Italian lakes. Weren't you, Alizon?" "Yes, I thought they were very beautiful," replied Alizon, who, being a comparative stranger to Aunt Jelly, hardly knew how to speak in a way congenial to that lady, "but I'm afraid it is a very lotos-eating place." "Humph!" remarked the old gentlewoman, with a sharp glance, "and you don't like lotos-eating." "No! I think life means something more than idleness." "For Heaven's sake, child, understand the value of being idle. Don't become a woman with a mission. It's a most detestable class--clatter, clatter, chatter, chatter! They do more harm than good, in my opinion, but then I'm an old woman and my ideas are much behind those of to-day." "I don't think there's much chance of my becoming a woman with a mission," replied Lady Errington, smiling, "it's not my nature, nor do I think Guy admires them." "By Jove! no," said Sir Guy, energetically; "those women who turn themselves into feminine men--I can't say I care for them at all. They worry a fellow's life out with their preachings. My ideal of a woman is--my wife."