“They don’t remember me yet.  As soon as they do they will cry out.”

Grizel shook her head confidently, and in this she was pitting herself against Tommy, always a bold thing to do.

“I have been to see Corp’s baby,” he said suddenly; and this was so important that she stopped in the middle of the road.

“What do you think of him?” she asked, quite anxiously.

“I thought,” replied Tommy, gravely, and making use of one of Grizel’s pet phrases, “I thought he was just sweet.”

“Isn’t he!” she cried; and then she knew that he was making fun of her.  Her arms rocked.

“Hurray!” cried Tommy, “they recognize me now!  Don’t be angry, Grizel,” he begged her.  “You taught me, long ago, what was the right thing to say about babies, and how could I be sure it was you until I saw your arms rocking?”

“It was so like you,” she said reproachfully, “to try to make me do it.”

“It was so unlike you,” he replied craftily, “to let me succeed.  And, after all, Grizel, if I was horrid in the old days I always apologized.”

“Never!” she insisted.

“Well, then,” said Tommy, handsomely, “I do so now”; and then they both laughed gaily, and I think Grizel was not sorry that there was a little of the boy who had been horrid left in Tommy—­just enough to know him by.

“He’ll be vain,” her aged maid, Maggy Ann, said curiously to her that evening.  They were all curious about Tommy.

“I don’t know that he is vain,” Grizel replied guardedly.

“If he’s no vain,” Maggy Ann retorted, “he’s the first son of Adam it could be said o’.  I jalouse it’s his bit book.”

“He scarcely mentioned it.”

“Ay, then, it’s his beard.”

Grizel was sure it was not that.

“Then it’ll be the women,” said Maggy Ann.

“Who knows!” said Grizel of the watchful eyes; but she smiled to herself.  She thought not incorrectly that she knew one woman of whom Mr. Sandys was a little afraid.

About the same time Tommy and Elspeth were discussing her.  Elspeth was in bed, and Tommy had come into the room to kiss her good-night—­he had never once omitted doing it since they went to London, and he was always to do it, for neither of them was ever to marry.

“What do you think of her?” Elspeth asked.  This was their great time for confidences.

“Of whom?” Tommy inquired lightly.

“Grizel.”

He must be careful.

“Rather pretty, don’t you think?” he said, gazing at the ceiling.

She was looking at him keenly, but he managed to deceive her.  She was much relieved, and could say what was in her heart.  “Tommy,” she said, “I think she is the most noble-looking girl I ever saw, and if she were not so masterful in her manner she would be beautiful.”  It was nice of Elspeth to say it, for she and Grizel were never very great friends.

Tommy brought down his eyes.  “Did you think as much of her as that?” he said.  “It struck me that her features were not quite classic.  Her nose is a little tilted, is it not?”