‘It used to be all fields and gardens over there,’ he said.  ’See what money and energy can do!  You shall go over the works in the morning.  Perhaps Adela will go with us, then we can take her back to the Manor.’

‘Why do they call the house that, Dick?’ Alice inquired.  ’Is it because people who live there are supposed to have good manners?’

‘May be, for anything I know,’ was the capitalist’s reply.  ’Only it’s spelt different, you know.  I say, Alice, you must be careful about your spelling; there were mistakes in your last letter.  Won’t do, you know, to make mistakes if you write to Adela.’

Alice gave a little shrug of impatience.  Immediately after, they stopped at the threshold sacred to all genteel accomplishments—­so Alice would have phrased it if she could have fully expressed her feeling—­and they speedily entered the sitting. room, where the table was already laid for tea.  Mrs. Waltham and her daughter rose to welcome them.

‘We knew of your arrival,’ said the former, bestowing on Alice a maternal salute.  ’Not many things happen in Wanley that all the village doesn’t hear of, do they, Mr. Mutimer?  Of course we expected you to tea.’

Adela and her future sister-in-law kissed each other.  Adela was silent, but she smiled.

‘You’ll take your things off, my dear?’ Mrs. Waltham continued.  ‘Will you go upstairs with Miss Mutimer, Adela?’

But for Mrs. Waltham’s persistent geniality the hour which followed would have shown many lapses of conversation.  Alice appreciated at once those ‘differences’ at which her brother had hinted, and her present frame of mind was not quite consistent with patient humility.  Naturally, she suffered much from self-consciousness; Mrs. Waltham annoyed her by too frequent observation, Adela by seeming indifference.  The delicacy of the latter was made perhaps a little excessive by strain of feelings.  Alice at once came to the conclusion that Dick’s future wife was cold and supercilious.  She was not predisposed to like Adela.  The circumstances were in a number of ways unfavourable.  Even had there not existed the very natural resentment at the painful task which this young lady had indirectly imposed upon her, it was not in Alice’s blood and breeding to take kindly at once to a girl of a class above her own.  Alice had warm affections; as a lady’s maid she might very conceivably have attached herself with much devotion to an indulgent mistress, but in the present case too much was asked of her, Richard was proud of his sister; he saw her at length seated where he had so often imagined her, and in his eyes she bore herself well.  He glanced often at Adela, hoping for a return glance of congratulation; when it failed to come, he consoled himself with the reflection that such silent interchange of sentiments at table would be ill manners.  In his very heart he believed that of the two maidens his sister was the better featured.  Adela and Alice sat over