"Oh, he _is_ good-looking."

"Hanged if he is. Anyhow he's not a half nor a quarter as good-looking as Valentine Purcell. And what's more, though he is my nephew, he is not so much of a gentleman as poor Val is."

Lady b.u.t.ts, however, stood to her guns.

"What girl in her senses would marry that creature?"

"Creature? Humph! Val isn't over sensible, and he has no backing,--but in his own way he's quite a nice fellow, and has a wonderful appearance when he's dressed. I don't want to see any one look better than Val Purcell turned out for a meet."

"He's just a big boy, and no one thinks of him as anything else."

"One person does--or at any rate, pretends she does. You may take your oath old granny yonder has an eye on your pretty widow; and the Purcells are too close to the Bolderos not to have a dozen opportunities of meeting, for one that you and your precious George have. I wouldn't mind laying odds upon the rival candidate."

Of this conversation we may be sure no echo ever reached other ears, and indeed Lady b.u.t.ts soon forgot its tenor herself, in her exuberation over George's report of his next step. He returned from the Abbey treading on air. Even the general had been civil--though it transpired at the last moment that the young man had been mistaken for his eldest brother--"but he couldn't go back on me then," chuckled the narrator, "though I'm bound to say he looked a bit blank. He doesn't yet know there are eight of us, and Heaven forfend his looking us up in Debrett!"

"Did you get any invitation?"

"Rather. To luncheon to-morrow. Beastly things, luncheons,--but I couldn't cadge for anything else. What I did was to say I should be walking past, and ask if I could do anything for anybody in the town?"

"My dear George! You don't propose walking all the way to----"

"Of course I don't; but I propose being prevented by the superior attractions of Boldero Abbey."

"Oh, I see." She laughed and considered. There were many things she wanted to ask, but to ask was to suggest, and suggestions were horribly dangerous.

For instance, about the Purcells? Sir Thomas had made her uneasy by his praise of Val Purcell's looks, praise which her own heart endorsed--and George, whose knowledge of the world was extensive, had all along been slow to believe in his own chances of success. He knew what it meant in London to be an eighth son. It was only her repeated a.s.surances of the Boldero's problematic ignorance on this head and her encouragement on every other, which had brought him up to the scratch at all. Thus hints which might have spurred on another man, would quite possibly daunt one alive to his disadvantages and inclined to magnify them. She reverted to Leonore, and he was willing to talk about Leonore to any extent.

But on thinking it over afterwards, she could not see that he had in reality very much to say. The little widow had looked as charming as before, but she had not been so talkative. He thought she was shy before her family; once only, when out of their sight for a few minutes, she had brisked up and chattered as at their first meeting; and she certainly did look pleased when on saying "Good-bye," he had added, "till morrow"; but otherwise--the fact was there had been no opportunity for anything else.

The luncheon party however proved more productive. Let us see how this came about.

"I really can't see what that man is coming for again to-day," observed Leonore, plaintively, the next morning. "People at luncheon are a bother, _I_ think."

"You're not often bothered by them," drily returned Maud; "it is months and months since such a thing happened. If we lived in a more habitable neighbourhood we should think nothing of it."

"Glad we don't then;" Leo pouted like a sullen child. "It means changing one's frock, and----"

"There's no need of that--for _you_. _You_ are all right. One black thing is the same as another."

This was what Leo wanted to find out. She had a pretty new coat and skirt, eminently satisfactory to herself, but about which there had been some demur when it first arrived. It was devoid of c.r.a.pe, and had a neat, coquettish air. Sue thought it hardly decent.

"But what am I to do?" queried her sister. "I did so want something to wear in wet weather. Even when it is only damp and misty--and you know it nearly always is damp and misty about here in the autumn--c.r.a.pe gets limp and wretched looking. However, I'll send this back if you wish, Sue?"

Upon which Sue had relented--as Leo knew she would. "Of course if you keep it for walking about in the woods, and do not go where you are seen, there might be no harm. Or perhaps it might be trimmed----"

"No, no; it could _not_ be trimmed," said Leo, hastily. Trimmed?

Disgusting! The very thought of a plain tailor-made coat which was so simple and workmanlike, yet so unspeakably chic in its simplicity, being mauled by a village dress-maker was terrible.

"I must either wear it as it is, or not at all," she exclaimed with decision; "but I would not wear it to vex you, dear," and the sharpness softened; "only I can't afford to buy another," murmured Leo,--and of course she was allowed to wear it.

Accordingly just as the door bell rang, down stepped a very smart little figure indeed, yet wearing a demure, unconscious air that would have deceived a Solon.

"Why, Leo! My dear!"

"Men never know," said Leo, calmly, "and that other old rag wasn't fit to be seen. It's torn at the back, and I gave it Bessie to mend."

"But, dear, you promised,--and supposing Lady b.u.t.ts----"

"She's not there. I looked from my window."

"I understood this was to be kept for out-of-doors," murmured Sue, uneasily, "and somehow, Leo, you look altogether,"--but the door opened, and no more could be said.

Feeling that she had got off cheap on the whole, Leo did nothing further to merit reprobation, and beyond placing herself well within Mr. George b.u.t.ts' line of vision, took no pains to attract his notice.

But she was aware that he _felt_ her, that more than once a general observation was designed chiefly if not entirely for her, and that she had but to open her lips for him to be silent. Girls always know when this is the case.

And scarcely had the party risen from the table, and the sisters retired, ere an astonishing thing happened.

We all know there are days of happenings; days charged with vitality and eventfulness; when nothing surprises and nothing seems out of the way,--it seemed quite a commonplace occurrence on the present occasion, when a motor car, full to the brim, whirled to the Abbey door.

At another time such a sight would have sent a thrill of excitement through the whole house; as it was, Sue moved quietly forward to greet a bevy of ladies, and Leo inwardly blessed her coat and skirt.

"We are on tour, and ought to have been here an hour ago, my dear people," cried a gay voice, belonging to General Boldero's only sister, who though several years older than he, seemed, and to all intents and purposes was, at least as much younger. She then presented her friends, and continued: "We took a wrong turning, or should have hit off your luncheon hour, Sue; but you will still have pity on our famished state, I'm sure,----" and the speaker put up her gla.s.ses, and inspected the circle.

"Only yourselves, I see; and only you girls. Is your father not at home to-day?"

"He is still in the dining-room, but----"

"In the dining-room? How lucky! We are not as late as we thought. Pray, dear Sue, take us there at once. You know I told you I should drop in unbeknownst some day," proceeded the voluble lady, slipping her hand within her niece's arm, and gently urging her towards the door, "so you probably were on the look out? No? Oh, but I said I should come."

"In the summer, Aunt Charlotte."

"Summer? But it is far pleasanter now. No dust, and the inns not half so crowded. Well, William, here we are,"--and the amazed William, who was peacefully sipping his coffee and smoking his cigar, and thinking that after all even an eighth son who was nephew of a rich and powerful neighbour was worth a luncheon and not bad company after it, found himself startled out of his chair by an invasion as unexpected as it was inopportune.

But he was somewhat afraid of his sister, of her fashion and smartness--above all of her _sang froid_. There was no saying what she might say or do.

Moreover he had a sneaking desire to show off before her. He was really pleased to be found entertaining, if so be he must be found at all.

Altogether, after the first shock, he rose to the occasion creditably.

And now there rose on the horizon George b.u.t.ts' lucky star. He had vacated his place at table in favour of the newcomers, and was hesitating as to whether after all he must not affect to pursue the walk which had been given out as the _raison-d'etre_ of his being where he was, when he caught Leonore's eye. Leonore, little minx, had all her wits about her. In five minutes the pair were stealing forth from a side door, and were quickly out of sight of the house.

"I put him on his way," she remarked, subsequently; "you were all so taken up with Aunt Charlotte's people that poor Mr. b.u.t.ts was utterly neglected, and could not get any one even to say 'Good-bye' to him. So I killed two birds with one stone. Turned him civilly out of doors, and kept myself in my objectionable get-up out of the reach of Aunt Charlotte's scathing tongue. Do you know, I really believe she hardly saw me. I am sure she did not take me in at all."

"She inquired where you had gone, Leo?"

"Did she? The old cat--I beg her pardon. But what business was it of hers where I had gone? Father," continued Leo, reverting to a trick whose value was tried and true, "you looked so dumfoundered, poor father, and were so completely taken possession of by--by an octopus,"--she paused to see how this was taken, and at his smile proceeded,--"that said I to myself: 'You're not wanted here, neither is friend George; you are both _de trop_: be off with you, and it will clear the field'. That was all right, wasn't it?"

"Hum--I suppose so. I never saw you go."