“I’ll get it for you, Daisy,” he said.  His dull eyes had not the power of shining or looking eloquent.  He stepped from behind the sofa where his sisters sat, and stumbled over Mrs. Meadowsweet’s footstool.

“I think, my dears, we’ll just wait for our guests,” said the old lady.  “We’ll all just be present, please, when they come.  It’s my old-fashioned ideas, my loves, just for us all to be ready to give them a right-down, good welcome.”

“Bother!” exclaimed Miss Daisy.  She flounced her full skirts, cast a withering glance at young Bell, and once more looked out of the open window.

“Come here, Beatrice,” exclaimed Polly.

Mr. Jones was talking to Beatrice, and Polly hoped they would both approach the window together.

“Come and tell us about that Adonis you went rowing with to-day,” called the girl in her shrill, half-jealous voice.

It was just at that moment that the door was flung open by Jane, and the Bertrams made their appearance.

Catherine and Mabel wore the simplest white washing-dresses.  Their girlish waists were encircled by sashes of pale gold.  Catherine’s thick dark hair was coiled tightly round her head—­Mabel’s more frizzy and paler locks fell in wavy curls round her forehead and on her shoulders.  Nobody else looked the least like the Bertrams.  Their dresses were as cheap as any other girl’s dresses in the room.  Daisy and Polly Jenkins had really much handsomer and finer hair, but somehow the effect produced by the Bertrams was altogether different.

Mrs. Meadowsweet addressed them in a deferential tone as “Miss,” and it went like an electric flash through the minds of all the other visitors that the old lady was quite right when she thought it her duty to receive them in state.

Bertram was in flannels, and these were cut not exactly after the pattern of those worn by young Bell, who looked with a sort of despair at his true love, Daisy, whose eyes, in company with the three pairs of eyes of the Bells, were directed full upon the aristocratic face of Captain Bertram.

“Come into the garden,” said Beatrice, stepping forward in her usual bright way, forgetting herself completely, and in consequence putting every one else at their ease.  “We are very punctual people at Northbury,” she continued, “and we are all wild to begin our game Captain Bertram, these are my friends, the Bells.  May I introduce you?  This is Miss Matty, and this is Miss Alice, and this is Miss Sophy.  Matty, I put Captain Bertram into your charge.  Albert,” she continued, looking at young Bell, “will you and Daisy arrange a set for tennis?”

How Albert Bell did bless Beatrice!  In a moment or two all the visitors were perambulating about the garden.  Mr. Jones was escorted on one side by Polly Jenkins, on the other, he, in his turn, tried to escort Mabel Bertram, who did not talk a great deal and seemed somewhat out of her element.  Catherine and Beatrice walked together, and Mrs. Meadowsweet, still sitting in her arm-chair, smiled as she saw them.