Modest, demure, the girl trips forward as though she were dancing a
quadrille. In the garden, just beyond the threshold, stand two smaller
sisters, shyly awaiting their turn. They, too, are in their Sunday-
best, and on the tiptoe of excitement--infant coryphe'es, in whom, as
they stand at the wings, stage-fright is overborne by the desire to be
seen and approved. I fancy they are rehearsing under their breath the
`Yes, ma' am,' and the `No, ma'am,' and the `I thank you, ma'am, very
much,' which their grown-up sister has been drilling into them during
the hurried toilet they have just been put through in honour of this
sudden call.
How anxious their mother is during the ceremony of introduction! How
keenly, as she sits there, she keeps her eyes fixed on the visitor's
face! Maternal anxiety, in that gaze, seems to be intensified by
social humility. For this is no ordinary visitor. It is some great
lady of the county, very rich, of high fashion, come from a great
mansion in a great park, bringing fruit from one of her own many hot-
houses. That she has come at all is an act of no slight condescension,
and the mother feels it. Even so did homely Mrs. Fairchild look up to
Lady Noble. Indeed, I suspect that this visitor is Lady Noble herself,
and that the Fairchilds themselves are neighbours of this family.
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