Sybil.  It seemed to me—–­

John.  There was nothing.  But I think I hear voices; they may have arrived.

[Some pretty instinct makes Sybil go farther from him.  Maggie kindly gives her time for this by speaking before opening the door.]

Maggie.  That will do perfectly, David.  The maid knows where to put them. [She comes in.] They’ve come, John; they would help with the luggage. [John goes out.  Maggie is agreeably surprised to find a visitor.] How do you do, Lady Sybil?  This is nice of you.

Sybil.  I was so sorry not to find you in, Mrs. Shand.

[The impediment has run away.  It is only for those who love it.]

Maggie.  Thank you.  You’ll sit down?

Sybil.  I think not; your relatives—–­

Maggie.  They will be so proud to see that you are my friend.

[If Maggie were less simple her guest would feel more comfortable.  She tries to make conversation.]

Sybil.  It is their first visit to London?

[Instead of relieving her anxiety on this point, Maggie has a long look at the gorgeous armful.]

Maggie.  I’m glad you are so beautiful, Lady Sybil.

[The beautiful one is somehow not flattered.  She pursues her investigations with growing uneasiness.]

Sybil.  One of them is married now, isn’t he? [Still there is no answer; Maggie continues looking at her, and shivers slightly.] Have they travelled from Scotland to-day?  Mrs. Shand, why do you look at me so?  The door did open! [Maggie nods.] What are you to do?

Maggie.  That would be telling.  Sit down, my pretty.

[As Sybil subsides into what the Wylies with one glance would call the best chair, MAGGIE’s men-folk are brought in by John, all carrying silk hats and looking very active after their long rest in the train.  They are gazing about them.  They would like this lady, they would like John, they would even like Maggie to go away for a little and leave them to examine the room.  Is that linen on the walls, for instance, or just paper?  Is the carpet as thick as it feels, or is there brown paper beneath it?  Had Maggie got anything off that bookcase on account of the worm-hole?  David even discovers that we were simpletons when we said there was nothing in the room that pretended to be what it was not.  He taps the marble mantelpiece, and is favourably impressed by the tinny sound.]

David.  Very fine imitation.  It’s a capital house, Maggie.

Maggie.  I’m so glad you like it.  Do you know one another?  This is my father and my brothers, Lady Sybil.

[The lovely form inclines towards them.  Alick and David remain firm on their legs, but James totters.]

James.  A ladyship!  Well done, Maggie.