It was a cheerful party gathered round the tea-table, quite lavishly set forth in honour of the guest.  Scones and tea cakes were plenteously saturated with butter, regardless of its winter price (the old ladies would breakfast on bread and scrape the rest of the week with uncomplaining self-denial), and a heavy plum cake formed the piece de resistance.

Trove, for olfactory reasons, was accommodated with his share on a rug in the passage.  Bluebell was the chief talker, with her week’s arrears of news.  Captain du Meresq’s arrival created a little buzz of interest.

“Is he handsome?” asked Mrs. Leigh, sentimentally, whose thoughts had flown back to earlier days.

Bluebell looked up with an odd, perplexed glance.  “Upon my word, I don’t know.”

“Ah! there were more good-looking people in my day,” said her mother.  “There was Captain Fletcher, in your poor father’s regiment, the handsomest man that was ever seen,—­fresh-coloured, with golden whiskers, and long, drooping moustache.  All we girls were wild about him.  Is Captain Du Meresq at all like that?”

“Not in the least.  I can’t describe him—­fine-shaped head, such strange eyes.  Oh!  I dare say you would think him hideous,” with a conscious laugh.

Miss Opie coughed suspiciously.  “It is unfortunate,” said she, “when you are in such a pleasant situation, that any disturbing element should enter.  I hope, Bluebell, you will be very circumspect in your demeanour towards this gentleman.”

“What,” said Bluebell, in demure imitation of her manner, “would you consider an appropriate attitude for me to assume towards him?”

“These fine Captains are too fond of turning young girls’ heads,” said Miss Opie, shaking her own; “‘leading captive silly women,’ as we read.  If he attempt any foolish, trifling conversation, you should check it with cold civility.”

Bluebell burst into an irreverent fit of laughter, and even Mrs. Leigh said,—­“Oh, those are your English ideas, Aunt Jane; we are not so stiff in Canada.”

Mrs. Opie having been a governess for ten years in the mother country, was looked upon as a naturalized Briton.

“I think the old country must be very dull,” said Bluebell.  “Miss Prosody is always pursing up her mouth and bridling if I laugh and talk with any of the officers; and one day I distinctly overheard her whisper to the Colonel,—­’very forward,’ and nod towards me.”

“It is, however, well to profit by such remarks,” returned Miss Opie; “there is doubtless some truth in them, however unpalatable.”

“But,” urged the girl, “Colonel Rolleston can’t bear one to be silent or dull; he always asks if one isn’t well; and I shouldn’t think you could call Captain Du Meresq a flirt.  Why, he has hardly spoken ten words to me yet,”—­but a sudden glow came to her cheeks as she remembered how many he had looked.

“Well, well, I was only warning you.  Fetch the backgammon board; your mother has won seven games and I nine since you went.”