Lady Laura was in a flutter of welcome, pouring out little sentences, leading him to a seat, introducing him, and finally pressing refreshments into his hands.

“It is too good of you,” she said; “too good of you, with all your engagements....  These gentlemen are most anxious....  Mrs. Stapleton of course you know....  And you will just sit and talk to us ... like friends ... won’t you....  No, no! no formal speech at all ... just a few words ... and you will allow us to ask you questions....”

And so on.

Meanwhile Laurie observed the high-priest carefully and narrowly, and was quite unable to see any of the unpleasant qualities he had expected.  He sat easily, without self-consciousness or arrogance or unpleasant humility.  He had a pair of pleasant, shrewd, and rather kind eyes; and his voice, when he said a word or two in answer to Lady Laura’s volubility, was of that resonant softness that is always a delight to hear.  In fact, his whole bearing and personality was that of a rather exceptional average man—­a publisher, it might be, or a retired lawyer—­a family man with a sober round of life and ordinary duties, who brought to their fulfillment a wholesome, kindly, but distinctly strong character of his own.  Laurie hardly knew whether he was pleased or disappointed.  He would almost have preferred a wild creature with rolling eyes, in a cloak; yet he would have been secretly amused and contemptuous at such a man.

“The sitting is off for Sunday, by the way, Lady Laura,” said the new-comer.

“Indeed!  How is that?”

“Oh! there was some mistake about the rooms; it’s the secretary’s fault; you mustn’t blame me.”

Lady Laura cried out her dismay and disappointment, and Mrs. Stapleton played chorus.  It was too tiresome, they said, too provoking, particularly just now, when “Annie” was so complacent.  (Mrs. Stapleton explained kindly to the two young gentlemen that “Annie” was a spirit who had lately made various very interesting revelations.) What was to be done?  Were there no other rooms?

Mr. Vincent shook his head.  It was too late, he said, to make arrangements now.

While the ladies continued to buzz, and Mr. Jamieson to listen from the extreme edge of his chair, Laurie continued to make mental comments.  He felt distinctly puzzled by the marked difference between the prophet and his disciples.  These were so shallow; this so impressive by the most ordinary of all methods, and the most difficult of imitation, that is, by sheer human personality.  He could not grasp the least common multiple of the two sides.  Yet this man tolerated these women, and, indeed, seemed very kind and friendly towards them.  He seemed to possess that sort of competence which rises from the fact of having well-arranged ideas and complete certitude about them.

And at last a pause came.  Mr. Vincent set down his cup for the second time, refused buttered bun, and waited.