“I hear that Oliver’s speeches have been extremely good.”

“H’m—­all about the poor,” said Lady Niton, releasing her hand from the knitting-needles, and waving it scornfully at the room in which they sat.  “Well, if Oliver were to tell me from now till doomsday that his heart bled for the poor, I shouldn’t believe him.  It doesn’t bleed.  He is as comfortable in his middle region as you or I.”

Bobbie laughed.

“Now look here, I’m simply famished for gossip, and I must have it.”  Lady Niton’s ball of wool fell on the floor.  Bobbie pounced upon it, and put it in his pocket.  “A hostage!  Surrender—­and talk to me!  Do you belong to the Mallory faction—­or don’t you?”

“Give me my ball, sir—­and don’t dare to mention that girl’s name in this house.”

Bobbie opened his eyes.

“I say!—­what did you mean by writing to me like that if you weren’t on the right side?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t have gone over to Lady Lucy and the Fotheringham woman!”

Lady Niton looked at him with a queer expression of contempt in her tanned and crumpled face.

“Is that the only reason you can imagine for my not permitting you to talk of Diana Mallory in this house?”

Bobbie, looked puzzled.  Then a light broke.

“I see!  You mean the house isn’t good enough?  Precisely!  What’s up.  Alicia? No!”

Lady Niton laughed.

“He has been practically engaged to her for two years.  He didn’t know it, of course—­he hadn’t an idea of it.  But Alicia knew it.  Oh! she allowed him his amusements.  The Mallory girl was one of them.  If the Sparling story hadn’t broken it off, something else would.  I don’t believe Alicia ever alarmed herself.”

“Are they engaged?”

“Not formally.  I dare say it won’t be announced till the autumn,” said his companion, indifferently.  Then seeing that Bobbie’s attention was diverted, she made a dash with one skinny hand at his coat-pocket, abstracted the ball of wool, and triumphantly returned to her knitting.

“Mean!” said Bobbie.  “You caught me off guard.  Well, I wish them joy.  Of course, I’ve always liked Marsham, and I’m very sorry he’s got himself into such a mess.  But as for Alicia, there’s no love lost between us.  I hear Miss Mallory’s at Beechcote.”

Lady Niton replied that she had only been three days in the house, that she had asked—­ostentatiously—­for a carriage the day before to take her to call at Beechcote, and had been refused.  Everything, it seemed, was wanted for election purposes.  But she understood that Miss Mallory was quite well and not breaking her heart at all.  At the present moment she was the most popular person in Brookshire, and would be the most petted, if she would allow it.  But she and Mrs. Colwood lived a very quiet life, and were never to be seen at the tea and garden parties in which the neighborhood abounded.