Mrs. Bertram laughed.

“I wish I could tell you what an imp of mischief Kate is,” she said.  “She is the most daring creature that ever drew the breath of life.  Dear Mr. Ingram, forgive me for even doubting you for a moment.  I might have known that you would only introduce my daughter to a lady.”

The Rector drew himself up a very little.

“Certainly, Beatrice Meadowsweet is a lady,” he replied.  “If a noble heart, and frank and fearless ways, and an educated mind, and a refined nature can make a lady, then she is one—­no better in the land.”

“I am charmed, charmed to hear it.  It is such a relief.  For, really Mr. Ingram, some people from Northbury came and sat on that very sofa which you are occupying, who were quite too—­oh, well, they were absolutely dreadful.  I wonder if Mrs. Meadowsweet has called.  I don’t remember the name, but I suppose she has.  I must look amongst the cards which have absolutely been showered on us and see.  I must certainly return her visit and at once.  Poor Mr. Meadowsweet—­he was in the army perhaps!  I am quite glad to know there are people of our position here.  Did you say the army?  Or perhaps a retired gentleman,—­ah, I see Catherine and Mabel coming back.  Which was Mr. Meadowsweet’s regiment?”

Poor Mr. Ingram’s face grew absolutely pink.

“At some time in his life poor Meadowsweet may have served in the local volunteers,” he replied.  “He was however, a—­ah, Miss Catherine, what tempting strawberries!”

The rector approached the open French window.  Mrs. Bertram followed him quickly.

“A—­what?” she repeated.  “The girls needn’t know whom we are talking about.  A gentleman who lived on his private means?”

“A gentleman, madam, yes, a gentleman,—­and he lived on his means,—­and he was wealthy.  He kept a shop, a draper’s shop, in the High Street.  Now, young ladies, young ladies—­I call this wrong. Such strawberries!  Strawberries are my special weakness.  Oh, it is cruel of you to tempt me.  I ought to be two miles from here now.”

“You ought not,” said Catherine in a gay voice.  “You must sit with us on the lawn, and drink our tea, and eat our strawberries.”

Catherine had given a quick, lightning glance at her mother’s face.  She saw a cloud there, she guessed the cause.  She felt certain that her mother would consult Mr. Ingram on the subject of Beatrice.  Mr. Ingram’s report was not satisfactory.  Delightful!  She felt the imp of mischief taking possession of her.  She was a girl of many moods and tenses.  At times she could even be sombre.  But when she chose to be gay and fascinating she was irresistible.  She was only seventeen, and in several ways she was unconventional, even unworldly.  In others, however, she was a perfect woman of the world, and a match for her mother.

CHAPTER IV.

TWO LETTERS.