“And young Mr. Pixley?  Doesn’t he liven you up?” asked Lady Elspeth.  “He is very good company, I am told.”

“Oh, Charles is excellent company.  If we didn’t see him now and again the house would be like a tomb.  But he’s not there all the time, and we have relapses.  He has his own rooms elsewhere, you know.  And I’m really not surprised.  It taxes even him to lighten the deadly dulness of Melgrave Square.”

“It must be a great comfort to Mrs. Pixley to have you with her, my dear.”

“I can’t make up for all she lacks in other directions,” said Margaret, with a shake of the head.  “I get quite angry with Uncle Jeremiah sometimes.  He is so—­so absorbed in benefiting other people that he—­Well, you can understand how delightful it is to be able to run in here and find the sun always shining.”

“Thank you, my dear,” said Lady Elspeth, with a twinkle in the brown eyes.  “Some people carry their own sunshine with them wherever they go.”

“And some people decidedly don’t,” said Margaret, who was evidently suffering from some unusual exhibition of Pixleyism.

“It is generally possible to find a ray or so somewhere about, if you know where to look for it,” suggested Graeme.

“I was just accusing Jock of coming here as regularly as the milkman,” twinkled Lady Elspeth.

“We have a community of tastes, you see,” he said, looking across at Margaret.  “I also have a craving for sunshine, and I naturally come where I know it is to be found,” and Lady Elspeth’s eyes twinkled knowingly again.

“It’s a good conceit of myself I’ll be getting, if you two go on like this.”

“I’m quite sure you will never think half as well of yourself as your friends do,” said Graeme.

“Besides, you might even pass some of the credit on to us for the excellent taste we display.”

“Ay, ay!  Well, it’s good to be young,” said Lady Elspeth.

“And it’s very good to have delightful old sunbeams for friends.”

“To say nothing of the young ones,” laughed the old lady.

“They speak for themselves.”

“We are becoming quite a mutual admiration society,” said Margaret.  “Have you been dining with your fellow Friars lately, Mr. Graeme?”

“I’m sorry to say I’ve been neglecting my privileges in that respect.  I haven’t been there for an age—­not since that last Ladies’ Dinner, in fact.  You see, I’m an infant there yet, and I scarcely know anybody, and I’ve been very busy—­”

“Chasing sunbeams,” suggested Lady Elspeth.

“And other things.”

“You are busy on another book?” asked Margaret.

“Just getting one under way.  It takes a little time to get things into proper shape, but once it is going, the work is very absorbing and sheer delight.  You were talking of going abroad again.  Are you still thinking of it?”

“I was hoping to get away.  I wanted Aunt Susan to come with me to the Riviera, but she flatly refuses to leave home at present, so I’m afraid that’s off.”