‘What do you call it?’ the younger Miss Powder went on. ’I should be proud—­awfully—­if I had such a house and all.  I’d take my time about being married.  Wouldn’t you?  Don’t you think it is best to put off being married as long as you can?—­ not till it’s too late, you know.  The fun’s all over then—­ don’t you think so?—­except the house, and carriage, and establishment, and giving entertainments, and all that.  And you have got it all already.  Oh, I should think you would make the men dance round?’

Wych Hazel had followed this rush of new ideas with a degree of amazement, which, before she knew, culminated in a merry laugh.  But she was grave again immediately.

‘Should you?’ she said.  ‘How do you do it?’

‘Don’t you know how?’ said the other girl, with an expression of insinuation, fun and daring which it is difficult to give on paper.  She was a pretty, bright girl, too.  The question would have been impudent if it had not been comical.  ’I know you do!’ she went on.  ’You’ve a good battery.  I’d like to see you do it.  I always do.  It’s such fun!  All men are good for,’ she exclaimed next, with a curl on her lip, ’except to carry one’s parasol and things.  Do you know Kitty Fisher?’

‘Not even by name,’ said Miss Kennedy, studying her guest as an entirely new species.

’She’s a splendid girl.  She’s coming to Moscheloo next week; there’ll be goings on then.  People are so stupid here in the country, they want somebody to wake them up.  Kitty’s awfully jolly.  Oh, what a lovely old house!  Take me in and let me see it, won’t you?  Oh, what a lovely hall!  What a place for a German!  Oh, you’ll give a German, won’t you?’

‘I do not know what I shall give, yet, Miss Powder.’

’I’m not Miss Powder!  Annabella wouldn’t thank you.  She’d like me to be Miss Powder, though.  Tell me; don’t you think people could get along just as well if they weren’t married?  Now there’s my mother wants to marry us off as quick as she can; and every other girl’s mother is just the same.  What do they do it for?  Oh, you’ve got a dreadful old guardian, haven’t you?  Does he want you to get married?  Ain’t it hateful to have a guardian?  I should think it would be awfully poky.’

‘Did you ever see Mr. Falkirk?’ said Hazel gravely.  Somehow this girl’s talk made her extremely reticent.  But that made little difference to Miss “Phinny.”  The next question was: 

‘Do you know Stephen Kingsland?’

‘Yes.’

’Don’t you admire him?  Ain’t he a catch, for somebody!  But you know Stuart Nightingale, don’t you?’

Again Miss Kennedy said yes.

‘Like him?’

‘Do you?’ said Hazel.

’I think he’s splendid!  He’s so amusing; and he’s a splendid dancer.  It’s fun to dance with Stuart Nightingale.  I don’t very often get him, though.  But you didn’t answer me—­do you like him?’