“I know you are a great student,” said Lady Ogram, regarding her amiably.  “But run and take off your hat, and come back to tea.”

She and Constance sat together, silent.  They did not exchange glances.

“Well?” sounded at length from the throne, a tentative monosyllable.

Constance looked up.  She saw that Lady Ogram was satisfied, happy.

“I’m glad Miss Tomalin was so punctual,” was all she could find to say.

“So am I. But we were talking about your deafness:  you must have it seen to.  Young people nowadays!  They can’t hear, they can’t see, they have no teeth—­”

“Miss Tomalin, I noticed, has excellent teeth.”

“She takes after me in that.  Her eyes, too, are good enough, but she has worn them out already.  She’ll have to stop that reading; I am not going to have her blind at thirty.  She didn’t seem to be deaf, did she?”

“No more than I am, Lady Ogram.”

“You are not deaf?  Then why did you say you were?”

“It was you, not I, that said so,” answered Constance, with a laugh.

“And what do you think of her?” asked Lady Ogram sharply.

“I think her interesting,” was Miss Bride’s reply, the word bearing a sense to her own thought not quite identical with that which it conveyed to the hearer.

“So do I. She’s very young, but none the worse for that.  You think her interesting.  So do I.”

Constance noticed that Lady Ogram’s talk to-day had more of the characteristics of old age than ordinarily, as though, in her great satisfaction, the mind relaxed and the tongue inclined to babble.  Though May was absent less than a quarter of an hour, the old lady waxed impatient.

“I hope she isn’t a looking-glass girl.  But no, that doesn’t seem likely.  Of course young people must think a little about dress—­ Oh, here she comes at last.”

Miss Tomalin had made no change of dress, beyond laying aside her hat and jacket.  One saw now that she had plenty of light brown hair, naturally crisp and easily lending itself to effective arrangement; it was coiled and plaited on the top of her head, and rippled airily above her temples.  The eyebrows were darker of hue, and accentuated the most expressive part of her physiognomy, for when she smiled it was much more the eyes than the lips which drew attention.

“Come and sit here, May,” said Lady Ogram, indicating a chair near the throne.  “You’re not tired?  You don’t easily get tired, I hope?”

“Oh, not very easily.  Of course I make a point of physical exercise; it is a part of rational education.”

“Do you cycle?” asked Constance.

“Indeed I do!  The day before yesterday I rode thirty miles.  Not scorching, you know; that’s weak-minded.”

Lady Ogram seemed to be reflecting as to whether she was glad or not that her relative rode the bicycle.  She asked whether May had brought her machine.