or, laughing. "Yes, by all
means ask her to come. I shall be very glad to welcome her any Sunday,
if she seems to enjoy coming."

"Oh, she won't do that. She hasn't any enjoying power left. It's all
taught out of her. I don't believe she could feel anything if she
tried," quoth Miss Betty in her wisdom, and was fated to see the folly
of her words.

Mrs Trevor was pouring out tea in the drawing-room at a little table
set almost beneath the shadow of Pam's branching palm. Miss Beveridge
was sitting bolt upright in an easy-chair, looking as if she were
accustomed to be uncomfortable, and uncomfortable she was determined to
be, in spite of all conspiracies to the contrary. She wore a severe
black dress, and her iron-grey hair was brushed back from her face with
almost painful neatness. Betty looked from one to the other as she
handed round cakes and scones, and wondered if her mother was really
years and years younger than Miss Beveridge, or if she only looked it
because she was pretty and dainty, and happy at heart. Miss Beveridge
had beautiful features, but the listless gloom of her expression spoiled
what beauty she might still have possessed. Nan's persistent efforts
had to some extent thawed the icy barrier of reserve, but in a strange
atmosphere it seemed to have frozen even harder than before, so that
Mrs Trevor was devoutly thankful for the arrival of the tea-tray, and
wondered no more at Betty's unwillingness to tackle this silent visitor.

And then the door opened, and Jack's cheery voice was heard.

"Hallo, mother, here's a friend come to tea!" he announced, and the next
moment the whole atmosphere of the room was changed, as the General's
big form hobbled forward, the big red face smiled its big kind smile,
and the big voice boomed out a thunderous greeting.

"Afternoon, madam! Afternoon, Lady Betty! This boy tempted me, and I
fell. What's this I hear about hot muffins and apricot jam? When I was
a nipper there was no boy in the length of Ireland that could beat
Terence Digby at a muffin struggle. Where's my friend Jill? Plain
Jill! Eh, what? No, my dear--I said to her--that, at least, you never
can be. That's taken out of your power! Where's Miss Pussy Pam? I
can't see you all in this half light. Very picturesque for young eyes,
madam, but when you get old like me you'll be thankful for electricity.
Eh! Who's this?"

He had caught a glimpse of the figure in the easy-chair, and, whee