In the High Street she met three girls, whose names were Matty, Alice, and Sophy Bell.  Their father was a retired coal merchant.  There was scarcely any active trade down in Northbury, almost all the inhabitants having retired to live there on their fortunes.  The Bells were small, rather thickly-made girls, with round faces and round eyes.  They always dressed alike, and one was never seen without the other two.  They generally walked through the streets with their arms linked, and each one echoed the sentiments of the other, so that the effect produced was a sense of medley and multiplicity.

To such an extent was this felt that the three girls were spoken of by the wits of the town as the “four-and-twenty Miss Bells.”  They adored Beatrice, and bore down upon her now in a neat phalanx.

“Delighted to see you, Bee!” exclaimed Matty.

“Delighted!” echoed Alice.

“Lighted!” exclaimed Sophy.

“Where have you been?” began Matty, again.

Beatrice told.  While she spoke, three pairs of lips were raised for a salute.

People kissed in the streets or anywhere at Northbury.

“You were with those Bertrams!  Those rude Bertrams!  Oh, fascinating—­”

“Fascinating—­”

“Nating,” burst from the three.

“Tell us about them, darling!” exclaimed one.

“Tell us!” said the other.

“—­Us”—­gasped the third.

Beatrice narrated her morning adventure with some spirit, praised her new friends, defended them from any score of rudeness, and altogether conjured up an interesting picture of them.

The Bells turned to walk with her.  Matty hung on one arm, Alice on another, Sophy hopped backwards in front.  Before she quite knew that she meant to do so, Beatrice had asked the Bells to join the tennis party that evening.  They accepted the invitation rapturously.

“Might Polly and Daisy Jenkins come too, and might Polly’s brother come, and if they met Mr. Jones, the curate—­Mr. Jones did so love tennis—­might he come?”

“Is the brother an officer in the real army?” inquired Matty.

“Real army—­”

“Army—­” echoed the others

Beatrice was able to assure them that Captain Bertram had nothing spurious about him.

“I’ll see you at seven,” she added, nodding to her companions.  “Yes, you can bring the Jenkinses and the boys, and Mr. Jones.  I really must hurry home now.”

She reached the Gray House, found her mother nodding, as usual, in her great easy-chair, and told her what she had done.

“I met the Bertrams on the water, and had lunch with them, and they are coming to tennis to-night, and to supper afterwards, mother,” she said.

Mrs. Meadowsweet always approved of her daughter’s doings.  She approved now, nodding her kind old head, and raising her face with a smile.

“Quite right, Trixie,” she said.  “How many Bertrams are there?  Is Mrs. Bertram coming?  If so, I had better put on my cap with the Honiton lace.”