Mr. Augustus Mortimer’s house was just outside the small town of Wigfield; it appeared to be quite in the country, because it was on the slope of a hill, and was so well backed up with trees that not a chimney could be seen from any of its windows.  It was built with its back to the town, and commanded a pretty view over field, wood, and orchard, and also over its own beautiful lawn and slightly-sloping garden, which was divided from some rich meadows by the same little river that ran nearly two miles further on, past the bottom of John Mortimer’s garden.  “And there,” said John Mortimer, after dinner, pointing out a chimney which could be seen against the sky, just over the tops of some trees—­“there lives my uncle Daniel, in a house which belongs to his stepson, Giles Brandon; his house is just two miles from this, and mine is two miles from each of them, so that we form a triangle.”

Mr. Mortimer’s daughter came the next day to call on the relatives from Melcombe; she brought his step-daughters with her; and these young ladies when they returned home gave their step-brothers a succinct account of the impressions they had received.

“Provincial, both of them.  The married one looks like a faded piece of wax-work.  Laura Melcombe is rather pretty, but unless she is a goose, her manners, voice, and whole appearance do her the greatest injustice possible.”

Mrs. Melcombe and Laura also gave judgment in the same manner when these visitors were gone.

“Mrs. Henfrey looks quite elderly.  She must be several years past fifty; but I liked her kind, slow way of talking; and what a handsome gown she had on, Laura, real lace on it, and a real Maltese lace shawl!”

“She has a good jointure,” said Laura; “she can afford to dress well.  The girls, the Miss Grants, have graceful, easy manners, just the kind of manners I should like to have; but I can’t say I thought much of their dress.  I am sure those muslins must have been washed several times.  In fact, they were decidedly shabby.  I think it odd and old-fashioned of them always to call Mrs. Henfrey ‘Sister.’”

“I do not see that; she is older than their mother was; they could not well address her by her Christian name.  They do not seem to be a marrying family, and that is odd, as their mother married three times.  The Grants are the children of the second marriage, are they not?”

“Yes; but three times!  Did she marry three times?  Ah, I remember—­how shocking!”

“Shocking,” exclaimed Mrs. Melcombe, “O, Laura, I consider it quite irreligious of you to say that.”

Laura laughed.  “But only think,” she observed, “what a number of names one must remember in consequence of her three marriages.  First, there is Uncle Daniel’s own daughter, Mrs. Henfrey; I do not mind her; but then there is Mr. Brandon, the son of Aunt Mortimer’s first husband; then these Grants, the children of her second husband; and then Valentine, uncle’s son and hers by this third marriage.  It’s a fatigue only to think of them all!”