She let breakfast pass by before she began her task, and even then she did not rush at it at once.  Lily sat herself down to her work when the teacups were taken away, and Mrs Dale went down to her kitchen as was her wont.  It was nearly eleven before she seated herself in the parlour, and even then she got her work-box before her and took out her needle.

“I wonder how Bell gets on with Lady Julia,” said Lily.

“Very well, I’m sure.”

“Lady Julia won’t bite her, I know, and I suppose her dismay at the tall footmen has passed off by this time.”

“I don’t know that they have any tall footmen.”

“Short footmen then,—­you know what I mean; all the noble belongings.  They must startle one at first, I’m sure, let one determine ever so much not to be startled.  It’s a very mean thing, no doubt, to be afraid of a lord merely because he is a lord; yet I’m sure I should be afraid at first, even of Lord De Guest, if I were staying in the house.”

“It’s well you didn’t go then.”

“Yes, I think it is.  Bell is of a firmer mind, and I dare say she’ll get over it after the first day.  But what on earth does she do there?  I wonder whether they mend their stockings in such a house as that.”

“Not in public, I should think.”

“In very grand houses they throw them away at once, I suppose.  I’ve often thought about it.  Do you believe the Prime Minister ever has his shoes sent to a cobbler?”

“Perhaps a regular shoemaker will condescend to mend a Prime Minister’s shoes.”

“You do think they are mended then?  But who orders it?  Does he see himself when there’s a little hole coming, as I do?  Does an archbishop allow himself so many pairs of gloves in a year?”

“Not very strictly, I should think.”

“Then I suppose it comes to this, that he has a new pair whenever he wants them.  But what constitutes the want?  Does he ever say to himself that they’ll do for another Sunday?  I remember the bishop coming here once, and he had a hole at the end of his thumb.  I was going to be confirmed, and I remember thinking that he ought to have been smarter.”

“Why didn’t you offer to mend it?”

“I shouldn’t have dared for all the world.”

The conversation had commenced itself in a manner that did not promise much assistance to Mrs Dale’s project.  When Lily got upon any subject, she was not easily induced to leave it, and when her mind had twisted itself in one direction, it was difficult to untwist it.  She was now bent on a consideration of the smaller social habits of the high and mighty among us, and was asking her mother whether she supposed that the royal children ever carried halfpence in their pockets, or descended so low as fourpenny-bits.

“I suppose they have pockets like other children,” said Lily.

But her mother stopped her suddenly,—­

“Lily, dear, I want to say something to you about John Eames.”