Occasionally they stopped to have a chat with more particular friends; and then Lionel would remain a little bit aside; though once or twice Lady Cunyngham chose to introduce him, and that pleased him, he hardly knew why.  But at last she said,

“Well, I think we must be getting home.  Properly speaking we have no right to be in the prayer-book brigade at all, for we have not been to church this morning.”

Not unlikely the squire of these two ladies was rather loath to leave this gay assemblage; but he was speedily consoled, for, to his inexpressible joy, he found, when they got in-doors, that there was no one else coming to lunch—­these three were to be quite by themselves.  And of what did they not talk during this careless, protracted, idling meal?  Curiously enough, it was Nina, not Miss Burgoyne, who appeared to have chiefly impressed the two visitors on the preceding evening; and when Lady Cunyngham discovered that she was an old companion and fellow-student of Lionel’s, she was much interested, and would have him tell her all about his experiences in Naples.  And again Miss Honnor recurred to the difference between amateur and professional acting, that seemed to have struck her so forcibly the previous night.

[Illustration:  “’Why, you seem to know everybody, Mr. Moore!’ she said to him, with a smile.”]

“Really, Mr. Moore,” said she, “you must have an astonishing amount of good-nature and tolerance.  If I had complete command of any art, and saw a band of amateurs attempting something in it and not even conscious of their own amateurishness, I don’t know whether I should be more inclined to laugh or to be angry.  I used to be amused, up there in Strathaivron, with the confidence Georgie Lestrange showed in singing a duet with you—­”

“Ah, but Miss Lestrange sings very well,” said he.  “And, you know, if Lady Adela and her sisters perform a piece like “The Chaplet”—­well, that is a Watteau-like sort of thing—­Sevres china—­force or passion of any kind isn’t wanted—­it’s all artificial, and confessedly so.  And then, when the professional actor finds himself acting with amateurs, I dare say he modifies himself a little—­”

“Becomes an amateur, in short,” she said.

“In a measure.  Otherwise he would be a regular bull in a china shop.  And surely, when you get a number of people in a remote place like Strathaivron, the efforts of amateurs to amuse them should be encouraged and approved.  I thought it was very unselfish of them—­very kind—­though they generally succeeded in sending Lord Fareborough to bed.  By the way, Miss Cunyngham, did Lord Fareborough ever get a stag?”

For it was observable that this young man, whenever he got the chance, was anxious to lead away the conversation from the theatre and all things pertaining thereunto, and would rather talk about Strathaivron and salmon-fishing and Miss Honnor’s plans with regard to the coming year.