“You shall do nothing of the sort, Chester,” cried Lady Brandon.  “I never heard of such a thing in my life!  Do you pay us for the wall and fence your people have broken, Mr. Smilash; that would be more to the purpose.”

“If I could find a thousand men as practical as you, Lady Brandon, I might accomplish the next great revolution before the end of this season.”  He looked at her for a moment curiously, as if trying to remember; and then added inconsequently:  “How are your friends?  There was a Miss—­Miss—­I am afraid I have forgotten all the names except your own.”

“Gertrude Lindsay is staying with us.  Do you remember her?”

“I think—­no, I am afraid I do not.  Let me see.  Was she a haughty young lady?”

“Yes,” said Lady Brandon eagerly, forgetting the wall and fence.  “But who do you think is coming next Thursday?  I met her accidentally the last time I was in town.  She’s not a bit changed.  You can’t forget her, so don’t pretend to be puzzled.”

“You have not told me who she is yet.  And I shall probably not remember her.  You must not expect me to recognize everyone instantaneously, as I recognized you.”

“What stuff!  You will know Agatha fast enough.”

“Agatha Wylie!” he said, with sudden gravity.

“Yes.  She is coming on Thursday.  Are you glad?”

“I fear I shall have no opportunity of seeing her.”

“Oh, of course you must see her.  It will be so jolly for us all to meet again just as we used.  Why can’t you come to luncheon on Thursday?”

“I shall be delighted, if you will really allow me to come after my conduct here.”

“The lawyers will settle that.  Now that you have found out who we are you will stop pulling down our walls, of course.”

“Of course,” said Trefusis, smiling, as he took out a pocket diary and entered the engagement.  “I must hurry away to the crossroads.  They have probably voted me into the chair by this time, and are waiting for me to open their meeting.  Good-bye.  You have made this place, which I was growing tired of, unexpectedly interesting to me.”

They exchanged glances of the old college pattern.  Then he nodded to Sir Charles, waved his hand familiarly to Erskine, and followed the procession, which was by this time out of sight.

Sir Charles, who, waiting to speak, had been repeatedly baffled by the hasty speeches of his wife and the unhesitating replies of Trefusis, now turned angrily upon her, saying: 

“What do you mean by inviting that fellow to my house?”

“Your house, indeed!  I will invite whom I please.  You are getting into one of your tempers.”

Sir Charles looked about him.  Erskine had discreetly slipped away, and was in the road, tightening a screw in his bicycle.  The few persons who remained were out of earshot.

“Who and what the devil is he, and how do you come to know him?” he demanded.  He never swore in the presence of any lady except his wife, and then only when they were alone.