"He says Mr. Lessing
is a very nice fellow; but you can't quite rely on his opinion: he's a
good word for every one."

"Which is delightful, but not amusing; and one does need amusement,
mother. Suppose we call at the cottage and follow up the call by an
invitation to dinner. We might ask the rector to meet them."

"The worst of asking the rector is that he always wants something,"
said Mrs. Webster, a little plaintively.

"That we haven't got?"

"Oh, May, you know quite well what I mean! It must be the heat that is
making you so argumentative. Mr. Curzon always has some pet hobby on
hand for which he wants money, and of course he ought to have it; but
really, just now, what with a trip abroad, and the London house to
paint and paper throughout, I've not so much in hand as usual."

"Enough for the rector's last hobby, I dare say. At any rate let's
risk it. If we all air our different views we might have an exciting
evening."

"I wish things were as they used to be. The old major was such a
thorough gentleman. It was quite a pleasure to give him a bed or
dinner when he came down."

"Is not this man a gentleman, then?"

"Oh, my dear, I hope so; but he has queer views, if all I hear be true.
I'm sure, if he says anything at dinner about our being all equal, I
shan't be able to hold my tongue. We never were and never can be."

"I believe Mr. Curzon thinks we are; only he likes poor people _much_
the best. He says the truest gentleman he ever came across is old
Macdonald."

"Now it is wild talk like that that makes me sometimes distrust Mr.
Curzon; and he ought to know better, being of such good family
himself," said Mrs. Webster, fretfully. "Is it not at the Macdonalds
that the Lessings are lodging? As you seem to wish it, we will call
this afternoon."

Paul Lessing was out when the smart carriage and pair drew up at the
Macdonald's cottage in the course of the afternoon; and Sally had to
receive her two visitors alone. Mrs. Webster's ample presence seemed
to fill the tiny sitting-room; but she placed herself graciously enough
in one of the cushioned elbow-chairs, whilst May subsided into the
slippery Windsor as gracefully as if it were the softest sofa. There
was something about Sally that pleased her; it may have been a certain
originality and freshness of manner, or the unconscious admiration that
shone in the dark eyes. Nothing in its way pleases a handsome woman
more than the admiration o