The warmth of her impulsive welcome did not, of course, escape the keen eyes of the sisters-in-law, which, in such matters as these, were quite undimmed by age.

“Why didn’t somebody pour out tea?” said Lady Mary.

“We know your rights, Mary,” said Miss Crewys.  “Never shall it be said that dear Timothy’s sisters ousted his wife from her proper place, because she did not happen to be present to occupy it.”

“Besides,” said Lady Belstone, “you have, no doubt, some excellent reason, my love, for the delay.”

Lady Mary’s blue eyes, glancing at John, said quite plainly and beseechingly to his understanding, “They are old, and rather cranky, but they don’t mean to be unkind.  Do forgive them;” and John smiled reassuringly.

“I’m afraid I haven’t much excuse to offer,” she said ingenuously.  “I was out late, and I tired myself; and then I heard Sir Timothy had come back, so I went to see him.  And then I made haste to change my dress, and it took a long time—­and that’s all.”

The three gentlemen laughed forgivingly at this explanation, and the two ladies exchanged shocked glances.

“Our cousin John did his best to entertain us, and we him,” said Lady Belstone, stiffly.

“His best—­and how good that must be!” said Lady Mary, with pretty spirit.  “The great counsel whose eloquence is listened to with breathless attention in crowded courts, and read at every breakfast-table in England.”

“That is a very delightful picture of the life of a briefless barrister,” said John Crewys, smiling.

“Mary,” said Miss Crewys, in lowered tones of reproof, “I understood that divorce cases, unhappily, occupied the greater part of our cousin John’s attention.”

“We’ve heard of you, nevertheless—­we’ve heard of you, Mr. Crewys,” said the canon, nervously interposing, “even in this out-of-the-way corner of the west.”

“But there is one breakfast-table, at least, in England, where divorce cases are not perused, and that is my brother Timothy’s breakfast-table,” said Lady Belstone, very distinctly.

John hastened to fill up the awkward pause which ensued, by a reference to the beauty of the hall.

“I’m afraid we don’t live up to our beautiful old house,” said Lady Mary, shaking her head.  “There are some lovely things stored away in the gallery upstairs, and some beautiful pictures hanging there, including the Vandyck, you know, which Charles II. gave to old Sir Peter, your cavalier ancestor.  But the gallery is almost a lumber-room, for the floor is too unsafe to walk upon.  And down here, as you see, we are terribly Philistine.”

“This hall was furnished by my grandmother for her son’s marriage,” said Miss Crewys.

“And she sent all your great-grandmother’s treasures to the attics,” said Lady Mary, with rather a wilful intonation.  “I always long to bring them to light again, and to make this place livable; but my husband does not like change.”