She must have made him take her to the tea-room for some ice, and there it was that, while I was standing with my partner a little way off, we heard Miss Avice Stympson’s peculiarly penetrating attempt at a whisper, observing, “Yes, it is melancholy!  I thought we were safe here, or I never should have brought my dear little Birdie....  What, don’t you know?  There’s no doubt of it—­the glaze on the pottery is dead men’s bones.  They have an arrangement with the hospitals in London, you understand.  I can’t think how Lord Erymanth can be so deceived.  But you see the trick was a perfect success.  Yes, the blocking up the railway.  A mercy no lives were lost; but that would have been nothing to him after the way he has gone on in Australia.—­ Oh, Lord Erymanth, I did not know you were there.”

“And as I could not avoid overhearing you,” said that old gentleman, “let me remind you that I regard courtesy to the guest as due respect to the host, and that I have good reason to expect that my visitors should have some confidence in my discrimination of the persons I invite them to meet.”

Therewith both he and Miss Stympson had become aware of the head that was above them all, and the crimson that dyed the cheeks and brow; while Viola, trembling with passion, and both hands clasped over Harold’s arm, exclaimed, in a panting whisper, “Tell them it is a wicked falsehood—­tell them it is no such thing!”

“I will speak to your uncle to-morrow.  I am obliged to him.”

Everybody heard that, and all who had either feeling or manners knew that no more ought to be said.  Only Lord Erymanth made his way to Harold to say, “I am very sorry this has happened.”

Harold bent his head with a murmur of thanks, and was moving out of the supper-room, when Dermot hastily laid a hand on him with, “Keep the field, Harry; don’t go.”

“I’m not going.”

“That’s right.  Face it out before the hags.  Whom shall I introduce you—­There’s Birdie Stympson—­come.”

“No, no; I don’t mean to dance again.”

“Why not?  Beard the harpies like a man.  Dancing would refute them all.”

“Would it?” gravely said Harold.

Nor could he be persuaded, save once at his host’s bidding, but showed no signs of being abashed or distressed, and most of the male Stympsons came and spoke to him.  The whole broke up at three, and we repaired to our rooms, conscious that family prayers would take place as the clock struck nine as punctually as if nothing had happened, and that our characters depended on our punctuality.  Viola was in time, and so was Eustace; I sneaked in late and ashamed; and the moment the servants had filed out Viola sprang to Eustace with vehement acknowledgments; and it appeared that just before she came down her missing box of gifts had been brought to her room, and she was told that Mr. Alison had sent for them.  Eustace smirked, and Lady Diana apologised for her little daughter’s giddy, exaggerated expressions, by which she had given far more trouble than she ever intended.