"I do so hope, Isabella, that you haven't had any more annoyance about the silly things that are being said about your pretty daughter-in-law,"

remarked Miss Westbury, leaning back with the comfortable amiability of a fat woman who expects to be amused.

Mrs. Wyburn looked round the room.

"Curious you never have your ceiling painted," she said. "I've often wondered why it is. It looks--you'll forgive me for saying so, Millie, won't you?--as if you left it in its present state from motives of, may I say, economy? But, of course, I know it isn't that--I always say, it's simply that you haven't noticed it. Thanks, no--no tea."

Miss Westbury's serenity was slightly disturbed, as her friend intended.

"I certainly don't spend my whole time lying on my back looking at the ceiling," she answered rather brusquely. "I have far too much to do."

"I never suggested that you should," quickly replied Mrs. Wyburn. "Such a thing never occurred to me for a single moment. And please don't think I wish to interfere, or to make remarks about anything that doesn't concern me. It merely struck me that if, at any time, you thought by some curious chance of having the house done up, it might be a pity to leave out the ceiling. But that was all. I do a.s.sure you, Millie, I never dreamt of hurting your feelings."

Miss Westbury laughed with a rather cackling sound--a sound Mrs. Wyburn recognised with satisfaction. It showed just the degree of slight annoyance she loved to cause in any one to whom she was speaking. Miss Westbury, however, waived the question and became hospitable.

"Do let me persuade you to have a toasted bun. Our baker makes them in a special way on purpose for me. There's nothing in the world more sensible with one's tea than a small toasted currant bun. I was speaking to Dr. Gribling about it only the other day, oddly enough, and he quite agreed with me."

"Why _only the other day_? and why _oddly enough_, Millie?--I dare say you speak to him constantly about it and about other equally urgent matters." She spoke with what she meant to be a slight sneer, in reply to which Miss Westbury behaved in a manner that is sometimes described as bridling up. She gave a movement meant to be a toss of the head and placed her lips firmly together.

"I like Dr. Gribling, Isabella, because he's a thoroughly sensible man--a man you can say anything to."

Mrs. Wyburn thought that Miss Westbury would say anything to any one, and she shrewdly suspected that Millie was probably the one gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt in poor old Dr. Gribling's dreary round. However, she waved the eminent physician aside and said--

"About Valentia. She and Romer have gone down to the country, you know."

"Oh, indeed! Quite early to go. Very nice. Have they a large party there, do you know? The Green Gate is such a charming place--so picturesque."

"Have you ever seen it?" Mrs. Wyburn asked.

"Only in the _Daily Mail_--I mean accounts of week-ends there, and that sort of thing. But I believe it's quite charming. It seems almost a pity though, doesn't it, at the end of the season to begin the same frivolities and gaieties all over again. I wonder they don't take a little rest."

"I believe they are resting. Valentia wrote to me that no one was staying there at all, except, of course, Daphne."

"And Harry de Freyne?"

"Yes, and Mr. de Freyne."

"Strange," said Miss Westbury comfortably. "Curious that extraordinary infatuation of your--son for this young man. But he's a very charming man, isn't he? Most agreeable?"

"He's not absolutely unpleasant."

"I suppose he brightens them up--amuses them? Probably he has very high spirits. Perhaps he has the _jar de veev_." Miss Westbury had a private p.r.o.nunciation of foreign expressions all her own. "It is unfortunate, but do you know one often sees that in unprincipled people, Isabella."

"He knows that he's not quite a gentleman, and is trying to laugh it off," said Mrs. Wyburn.

"Does he really? Dear, dear--what a sad thing!--and yet he certainly _ought_ to be a gentleman, you know. On his mother's side he is connected with the----"

"That's not the point," snapped Mrs. Wyburn. "And of course I don't mean to say that--outwardly--he's not. His manner and appearance are distinguished. It's the soul that's vulgar."

"Ah, I see! You mean you're afraid he isn't one of _nature's_ gentlemen?"

"Nature? How do you mean? He has nothing to do with nature. He's a man about town."

"Oh, I beg your pardon--I understood he was an artist. And sometimes, you know, artists are extremely fond of nature; in fact, far _too_ fond."

"I believe all that painting is only done to throw dust in people's eyes--an excuse for idleness. Candidly, I don't like studios; I don't think they're respectable."

"I know what you mean; but still, after all"--Miss Westbury made a feeble attempt at a good-natured defence--"after all, if they all like it--I mean to say, if they're all so happy, why should we----"

"I doubt if my son is happy."

"Oh, really, really? Do you think he's _ever noticed anything?_ Isn't he devoted to Harry de Freyne?"

"Of course he hates him like poison," replied the mother.

Miss Westbury started in delighted horror, and replied sharply, "How do you know that? Did he tell you?"

"Tell me! He would never tell me. Besides, he couldn't tell me--he doesn't know it."

"And how do you know it?"

"Mothers know everything," she replied.

After a minute's pause, Miss Westbury said--

"But if you feel sure that Romer isn't happy, and that he, almost unconsciously perhaps, doesn't really like this young man being always about, mightn't it some day end in some trouble--some explosion?"

"It's quite possible."

"Then I wonder what Romer would do?"

"I know what he would do."

"Good heavens, Isabella, you don't mean to say that he would ever bring a----"

"It's really strange," said Mrs. Wyburn, "that at your age you should still be so silly. Will you never learn to understand anything at all?

Of course not. He would protect her."

"Can't something be done? Why don't you speak to Valentia?"

"The advice of a relative-in-law in a case of this kind has never yet been known to be of any real use, Millie. I can only hope the whole thing may gradually wear itself out."

"May it be so, my dear!" echoed Miss Westbury, unctuously.

Mrs. Wyburn got up to go.

Miss Westbury helped her to fasten her mantle.

"I'm so glad you loosened it, or else you might not feel the benefit of it when you go out, Isabella," she observed, for she was not one to miss an opportunity of making a remark of this kind. "And _do_ look on the bright side. I always say that things of this sort may not be true, and even if they are, everything may be for the best in the end."