At the same time Frank drew near Miss Vivian with a large book, saying, “These are the photographs you wished to see.”

He placed the book on the ottoman, and would thus have secured a sort of tete-a-tete; but Eleonora did not choose to leave Mrs Miles Charnock out, and handed her each photograph in turn, but could only elicit a cold languid “Thank you.”  To Anne’s untrained eye these triumphs of architecture were only so many dull representations of ‘Roman Catholic churches,’ and she would much rather have listened to the charitable plans of the other two ladies, for the houseless factory women of Wil’sbro’.

The bazaar, Lady Tyrrell said, must be first started by the Member’s wife; and there should be an innermost committee, of not more than three, to dispose of stalls and make arrangements.

“You must be one,” said Cecil.  “I know no one yet.”

“You will, long before it comes off.  In fact, I am as great a stranger as yourself.  Ah! there’s an opportunity!” as the bell pealed.  “The Bowaters, very likely; I saw their Noah’s ark as I passed the Poynsett Arms, with the horses taken out.  I wonder how many are coming—­worthy folks!”

Which evidently meant insufferable bores.

“Is there not a daughter?” asked Cecil.

“You need not use the singular, though, by the bye, most of them are married.”

“Oh, pray stay!” entreated Cecil, as there were signs of leave-taking.

“I should do you no good.  You’ll soon learn that I am a sort of Loki among the Asagotter.”

Cecil laughed, but had time to resume her somewhat prim dignity before the lengthened disembarkation was over, and after all, produced only four persons; but then none were small—­Mrs. Bowater was a harsh matron, Mr. Bowater a big comely squire, the daughters both tall, one with an honest open face much like Herbert’s, only with rather less youth and more intelligence, the other a bright dark glowing gipsy-faced young girl.

Eleonora Vivian, hitherto gravely stiff and reserved, to poor Frank’s evident chagrin, at once flashed into animation, and met the elder Miss Bowater with outstretched hands, receiving a warm kiss.  At the same time Mr. Bowater despatched Frank to see whether his mother could admit a visitor; and Lady Tyrrell observed, “Ah!  I was about to make the same petition; but I will cede to older friends, for so I suppose I must call you, Mr. Bowater—­though my acquaintance is of long standing enough!”

And she put on a most charming smile, which Mr. Bowater received with something inarticulate that might be regarded as a polite form of ‘fudge,’ which made Cecil think him a horribly rude old man, and evidently discomposed his wife very much.

Frank brought back his mother’s welcome to the Squire; but by this time Eleonora and Miss Bowater had drawn together into a window, in so close and earnest a conversation that he could not break into it, and with almost visible reluctance began to talk to the younger sister, who on her side was desirous of joining in the bazaar discussion, which had been started again in full force; until there was a fresh influx of visitors, when Lady Tyrrell decidedly took leave with her sister, and Frank escorted them to their carriage, and returned no more.