“I suspect he is a prey to impostors of every description,” said Colonel Ormonde, with a fat laugh.  “He is always worrying for subscriptions and God knows what.  But I turn a deaf ear to him.”

“I cannot say I do always,” remarked Errington.  “While we devise schemes of more scientific amelioration, hundreds die of sharp starvation or misery long drawn out.  Payne is a good fellow, and enthusiasts have their uses.”

“You are so liberal yourself, Mr. Errington,” cried Mrs. Ormonde, “I dare say you are often imposed upon in spite of your wisdom.”

“My wisdom!” repeated Errington, laughing.  “What an original idea, Mrs. Ormonde!  Did you ever know I was accused of wisdom?” he added, addressing Lady Alice.

“Papa says you are very sensible,” she returned, seriously.

“Of course,” cried Mrs. Ormonde.  “Why, he has written a pamphlet on ’Our Colonies,’ and something wonderful about the state of Europe—­didn’t he, Mr. Heywood?”

“Yes,” returned the rector.  “I suspect our future member will be a cabinet minister before the world is many years older.”

Lady Alice looked up with more of pleasure and animation than she had yet shown.  Errington bent his head.

“Many thanks for your prophecy;” and he immediately turned the conversation to the ever-genial topics of hunting and horses.  Then Mrs. Ormonde gave the signal of retreat to the drawing-room.

Here Katherine looked in vain for her nephews.

“I suppose the boys have gone to bed, Ada?”

“To bed! oh yes, of course.  Why, it is more than half past eight; it would never do to keep them up so late.  Would you like to see baby boy asleep? he looks quite beautiful.”

“Yes, I should, very much,” returned Katherine, anxious to gratify the mother.

“Come, then,” cried Mrs. Ormonde, starting up with alacrity.  As the invitation was general, Lady Alice said, in her gentle way.

“Thank you; I saw the baby yesterday.”

“She has really very little feeling,” observed Mrs. Ormonde, as she went upstairs with her sister-in-law.  “She never notices baby.”

“I am afraid I should not notice children much if they did not belong to me.”

“My dear Katherine, you are quite different.  Of course Lady Alice is sweet and elegant, but not clever.  Indeed, I cannot see the use of cleverness to women.  There is a fine aristocratic air about her.  After all, there is nothing like high birth.  I assure you it is a high compliment her being allowed to stay here.  Her aunt, Lady Mary Vincent, is a very fine lady indeed, and chaperons Lady Alice.  But her father, Lord Melford, is a curious, reckless sort of man, always wandering about—­yachting and that kind of thing; he is rather in difficulties too.  They are glad enough to send her down here to see something of Errington.  You know Errington is a very good match; he has bought a great deal of the Melford property, and when old Errington dies he will be immensely rich.  The poor old man is in miserable health; he has not been down here all the winter.  I believe the wedding is to take place in June; we will be invited, of course; you see Colonel Ormonde is so highly connected that I am in a very different position from what I was accustomed to.  And you, dear, you must marry some person of rank; there is nothing like it.”