Valetta, who had grown fond of Maura in their school life, and who dearly loved patronising, pounced upon her guest to show her all manner of treasures and curiosities, at which she looked in great delight; and Fergus was so well satisfied with her comprehension of the principles of the letter balance, that he would have taken her upstairs to be introduced to all his mechanical inventions, if the total darkness and cold of his den had not been prohibitory.

Kalliope looked to perfection, but was more silent than her sister, though, as Miss Mohun’s keen eye noted, it was not the shyness of a conscious inferior in an unaccustomed world, but rather that of a grave, reserved nature, not chattering for the sake of mere talk.

Gillian’s photograph-book was well looked over, with all the brothers and sisters at different stages, and the group of officers.  Miss Mohun noted the talk that passed over these, as they were identified one by one, sometimes with little reminiscences, childishly full on Gillian’s part, betraying on Kalliope’s side friendly acquaintance, but all in as entirely ladylike terms as would have befitted Phyllis or Alethea.  She could well believe in the words with which Miss White rather hastened the turning of the page, ’Those were happy days—–­I dare not dwell on them too much!’

‘Oh, I like to do so!’ cried Gillian.  ’I don’t want the little ones ever to forget them.’

‘Yes—–­you!  But with you it would not be repining.’

This was for Gillian’s ear alone, as at that moment both the aunts were, at the children’s solicitation, engaged on the exhibition of a wonderful musical-box—–­Aunt Adeline’s share of her mother’s wedding presents—–­containing a bird that hovered and sung, the mechanical contrivance of which was the chief merit in Fergus’s eyes, and which had fascinated generations of young people for the last sixty years.  Aunt Jane, however, could hear through anything—–­even through the winding-up of what the family called ‘Aunt Ada’s Jackdaw,’ and she drew her conclusions, with increasing respect and pity for the young girl over whose life such a change had come.

But it was not this, but what she called common humanity, which prompted her, on hearing a heavy gust of rain against the windows, to go into the lower regions in quest of a messenger boy to order a brougham to take the guests home at the end of the evening.

The meal went off pleasantly on the whole, though there loomed a storm as to the ritual of St. Kenelm’s; but this chiefly was owing to the younger division of the company, when Valetta broke into an unnecessary inquiry why they did not have as many lights on the altar at St. Andrew’s as at St. Kenelm’s, and Fergus put her down with unceremoniously declaring that Stebbing said Flight was a donkey.

Gillian came down with what she meant for a crushing rebuke, and the indignant colour rose in the cheeks of the guests; but Fergus persisted, ‘But he makes a guy of himself and a mountebank.’