“Let them apportion them for themselves,” cried the countess-dowager.  “These three are mine; others manage as they can.  It’s Hartledon’s fault.  I told him not to invite a heap of people.  You and I shall get on together very well, I’ve no doubt, Mirrable,” she continued in a false, fawning voice; for she was remarkably alive at all times to her own interests.  “Am I to understand that you are the housekeeper?”

“I am acting as housekeeper at present,” was Mirrable’s answer.  “When my lord went to town, after my lady’s death, the housekeeper went also, and has remained there.  I have taken her place.  Lord Elster—­Lord Hartledon, I mean—­has not lived yet at Hartledon, and we have had no establishment.”

“Then who are you?”

“I was maid to Lady Hartledon for many years.  Her ladyship treated me more as a friend at the last; and the young gentlemen always did so.”

“Very good,” cried the untrue voice.  “And, now, Mirrable, you can go down and send up some tea for myself and Lady Maude.  What time do we dine?”

“Mr. Elster ordered it for eight o’clock.”

“And what business had he to take orders upon himself?” and the pale little eyes flashed with anger.  “Who’s Val Elster, that he should interfere?  I sent word by the servants that we wouldn’t dine till nine.”

“Mr. Elster is in his own house, madam; and—­”

“In his own house!” raved Lady Kirton.  “It’s no house of his; it’s his brother’s.  And I wish I was his brother for a day only; I’d let Mr. Val know what presumption comes to.  Can’t dinner be delayed?”

“I’m afraid not, my lady.”

“Ugh!” snapped the countess-dowager.  “Send up tea at once; and let it be strong, with a great deal of green in it.  And some rolled bread-and-butter, and a little well-buttered toast.”

Mirrable departed with the commands, more inclined to laugh at the selfish old woman than to be angry.  She remembered the countess-dowager arriving on an unexpected visit some three or four years before, and finding the old Lord Hartledon away and his wife ill in bed.  She remained three days, completely upsetting the house; so completely upsetting the invalid Lady Hartledon, that the latter was glad to lend her a sum of money to get rid of her.

Truth to say, Lady Kirton had never been a welcome guest at Hartledon; had been shunned, in fact, and kept away by all sorts of ruses.  The only other visit she had paid the family, in Mirrable’s remembrance, was to the town-house, when the children were young.  Poor little Val had been taught by his nurse to look upon her as a “bogey;” went about in terror of her; and her ladyship detecting the feeling, administered sly pinches whenever they met.  Perhaps neither of them had completely overcome the antagonism from that time to this.

A scrambling sort of life had been Lady Kirton’s.  The wife of a very poor and improvident Irish peer, who had died early, leaving her badly provided for, her days had been one long scramble to make both ends meet and avoid creditors.  Now in Ireland, now on the Continent, now coming out for a few brief weeks of fashionable life, and now on the wing to some place of safety, had she dodged about, and become utterly unscrupulous.