e is fit for work she calls a trying case
a 'beautiful' one."

"But meanwhile--?" Mrs. Ansell shone on her with elder-sisterly
solicitude. "Meanwhile, why not stay on with Cicely--above all, with
Bessy? Surely she's a 'beautiful' case too."

"Isn't she?" Justine laughingly agreed.

"And if you want to be tried--" Mrs. Ansell swept the scene with a
slight lift of her philosophic shoulders--"you'll find there are trials
enough everywhere."

Her companion started up with a glance at the small watch on her breast.
"One of them is that it's already after four, and that I must see that
tea is sent down to the tennis-ground, and the new arrivals looked
after."

"I saw the omnibus on its way to the station. Are many more people
coming?"

"Five or six, I believe. The house is usually full for Sunday."

Mrs. Ansell made a slight motion to detain her. "And when is Mr. Amherst
expected?"

Miss Brent's pale cheek seemed to take on a darker tone of ivory, and
her glance dropped from her companion's face to the vivid stretch of
gardens at their feet. "Bessy has not told me," she said.

"Ah--" the older woman rejoined, looking also toward the gardens, as if
to intercept Miss Brent's glance in its flight. The latter stood still a
moment, with the appearance of not wishing to evade whatever else her
companion might have to say; then she moved away, entering the house by
one window just as Mr. Langhope emerged from it by another.

The sound of his stick tapping across the bricks roused Mrs. Ansell from
her musings, but she showed her sense of his presence simply by
returning to the bench she had just left; and accepting this mute
invitation, Mr. Langhope crossed the terrace and seated himself at her
side.

When he had done so they continued to look at each other without
speaking, after the manner of old friends possessed of occult means of
communication; and as the result of this inward colloquy Mr. Langhope at
length said: "Well, what do you make of it?"

"What do _you_?" she rejoined, turning full upon him a face so released
from its usual defences and disguises that it looked at once older and
more simple than the countenance she presented to the world.

Mr. Langhope waved a deprecating hand. "I want your fresher
impressions."

"That's what I just now said to Miss Brent."

"You've been talking to Miss Brent?"

"Only a flying word--she had to go and look after the new arrivals."

Mr. Langhope's attention deepened.