Mr. Vane looked up.

‘My dear child,’ he said too, to Bridget, ’you must be careful.  And here—­where everybody is sure to know who you are, and when you should set a good example of nice manners—­you must not behave in this wild sort of way.’

‘I didn’t mean,’ began Biddy plaintively.

But this time she was not chidden for her doleful tone—­both Alie and Rough came to the rescue.

‘Please, mamma, oh please, papa, you don’t understand,’ began Rosalys.

‘It wasn’t the bazaar people at all,’ said Rough, chiming in; ’it was all right.  Only, Biddy, you are really too stupid, the muddley way you tell things——­’

‘Yes,’ agreed Alie, with natural vexation, ’you needn’t make it seem as if we had all gone out of our minds, really.’

‘I didn’t mean,’ started Biddy again, and still more lugubriously.

‘Stop, Bride,’ said Mr. Vane authoritatively, laying down his knife and fork as he spoke.  ‘Now, Rosalys, tell the whole story properly.’

Alie did so, and as Randolph had already explained about meeting Mr. Redding, it was not long before his father and mother understood the real facts clearly.

’We couldn’t have refused to go into the parlour when Mrs. Fairchild asked us like that—­could we, mamma?’ Rosalys wound up.

’And she asked us to step in so nicely.  And there were no chairs in the shop, ‘cept only one.  And I did so want to see a parlour,’ added Biddy, reviving under Alie’s support.

‘No, you did quite right,’ said Mrs. Vane to the elder ones.  ’But Biddy must not begin making friends with every child she comes across and inviting them to come here.  You are not a baby now; you should have more sense.’

The tears collected in Bridget’s eyes; they were very obedient to her summons, it must be allowed.  Rosalys felt sorry for her.

‘Mamma,’ she said, ’of course Biddy shouldn’t invite anybody without your leave first, but still this little Celestina isn’t at all a common child.  She’s so neat and quiet, and she speaks so nicely.  And her mother is nearly as pretty as you, not quite of course.’

‘She’s awfully jolly,’ put in Rough.

Mrs. Vane smiled.

‘What an uncommon name,’ she said. ’"Celestine,” did you say?  It is French.’

‘No, mamma, not “Celestine,"’ said Alie, ’"Celestina.”  I suppose it’s the English of the other.’

‘I never heard it in English before,’ said Mrs. Vane, ’though I once had a dear old friend in France called “Celestine”—­you remember Madame d’Ermont, Bernard?  I’ve not heard from her for ever so long.’

’Celestina was going to tell us about her name, but something interrupted her and then she forgot,’ said Alie.  ’Perhaps they’ve got some French relations, mamma.’

‘It isn’t likely,’ her mother replied.  ’But some day when I am in the village, or town—­should we call it “town,” Bernard?’