“Of course, you prefer High Church and low bodices,” retorted Mavis.

Soon after, Mrs Hamilton and Mavis left the men and went upstairs to the drawing-room.  The girl was uneasy in her mind as to how Mrs Hamilton would take the fact of her having considerably eclipsed her employer at table; now that they were alone together, she feared some token of Mrs Hamilton’s displeasure.

To her surprise and delight, this person said: 

“You’re an absolute treasure.”

“You think so?”

“I don’t think; I know.  But then, I never make a mistake.”

“I’m glad you’re pleased.”

“I’m not pleased; delighted is more the word.  You’re worth your weight in gold.”

“I wish I were.”

“But you will be, if you follow my advice.  At first, I thought you a bit of a mug.  I don’t mind telling you, now I see how smart you are.”

Mavis looked puzzled; the extravagant eulogy of her conduct seemed scarcely to be justified.

“You can see Williams is head over ears in love with you.  So far, he’s been beastly stand-offish to anyone I put him on to,” continued Mrs Hamilton.

“Indeed!” said Mavis coldly.  She disliked Mrs Hamilton’s coarse manner of expressing herself.

Mrs Hamilton did not notice the frown on the girl’s forehead, but went on: 

“As for that idea of drinking water, it was a stroke of genius.”

“What?”

“My heart went out to you when you insisted on having it, although I pretended to mind.”

Mavis was about to protest her absolute sincerity in the matter, when Parkins, the maid who had dressed her, came into the room.  She whispered to her mistress, at which Mrs Hamilton rose hurriedly and said: 

“I must leave you for a little time on important business.”

“What would you like me to do?” asked Mavis.

“Particularly one thing:  don’t leave this room.”

“Why should I?”

“Quite so.  But I want someone here when Mr Williams comes upstairs.”

“I’ll stick at my post,” laughed Mavis, at which Mrs Hamilton and the comely-looking maid left the room.

Left alone, Mavis surrendered herself to the feeling of uneasiness which had been called into being, not only by her employer’s strange words, but, also, by the fact of Mr Williams having been addressed by the other man as Windebank.  The more she thought of it, the more convinced was she that Mr Ellis had not made a mistake in calling the other man by a different name to the one by which she had been introduced to him.  The fact of his having admitted that his home was in Wiltshire, together with the sense of familiarity in his company, seemingly begotten of old acquaintance, tended to strengthen this conviction.  On the other hand, if he were indeed the old friend of her childhood, there seemed a purposed coincidence in the fact of their having met again.  She did