“It’s only centrifugal force,” said Leslie, spinning round between her finger and thumb a needle to whose head she had just touched a globule of the bright black wax.  “The world and a pin-head—­both made on the same principle.”

The Haddens and Imogen Thoresby strolled along together, and added themselves to the group.

“Let’s go over to the hotel, Leslie.  We’ve seen nothing of the girls since just after breakfast.  They must be up in the hall, arranging about the tableaux.”

“I’ll come by and by, if you want me; don’t wait.  I’m going to finish these—­properly;” and she dipped and twirled another needle with dainty precision, in the pause between her words.

“Have you got a lot of brothers at home, Miss Leslie?” asked Dakie Thayne.

“Two,” replied Leslie; “not at home, though, now; one at Exeter, and the other at Cambridge.  Why?”

“I was thinking it would be bad—­what do you call it—­political economy or something, if you hadn’t any, that’s all.”

“Mamma wants you,” said Ginevra Thoresby, looking out at the door to call her sisters.  “She’s in the Haughtleys’ room.  They’re talking about the wagon for Minster Rock to-night.  What do you take up your time with that boy for?” she added, not inaudibly, as she and Imogen turned away together.

“Oh dear!” cried blunt Etty, lingering, “I wonder if she meant me.  I want to hear about the caterpillars.  Mamma thinks the Haughtleys are such nice people, because they came in their own carriage, and they’ve got such big trunks, and a saddle-horse, and elegant dressing-cases, and ivory-backed brushes!  I wish she didn’t care so much about such things.”

Mrs. Thoresby would have been shocked to hear her little daughter’s arrangement and version of her ideas.  She had simply been kind to these strangers on their arrival, in their own comfortable carriage, a few days since; had stepped forward,—­as somehow it seemed to devolve upon her, with her dignified air and handsome gray curls, when she chose, to do,—­representing by a kind of tacit consent the household in general, as somebody in every such sojourn usually will; had interested herself about their rooms, which were near her own, and had reported of them, privately, among other things noted in these first glimpses, that “they had everything about them in the most perfect style; ivory-backed brushes, and lovely inlaid dressing-cases, Ginevra; the best all through, and no sham!” Yes, indeed, if that could but be said truly, and need not stop at brushes and boxes!

Imogen came back presently, and called to Etty from the stairs, and she was obliged to go.  Jeannie Hadden waited till they were fairly off the landing, and then walked away herself, saying nothing, but wearing a slightly displeased air.