Silent and demure, plainly dressed in an old dark merino, and a white-ribboned faded bonnet, sat a little figure almost behind her grandmother.  Her face had the French want of complexion, but the eyes were of the deepest, most lustrous hue of grey, almost as dark as the pupils, and with the softness of long dark eyelashes—­beautiful eyes, full of light and expression—­and as she moved towards the table, there was a finish and delicacy about the whole form and movements, that made her a most pleasing object.

But Albinia could not improve her acquaintance, for in flowed another party of visitors, and Madame curtsied herself out again, Albinia volunteering that she would soon come to see her, and being answered, ‘You will do me too much honour.’

Another afternoon devoured by visitors!  Every one seemed to have come except the persons who would have been most welcome, Mr. Dusautoy, and Winifred’s friends, the Nugents.

When, at four o’clock, she had shaken hands with the last guest, she gave a hearty yawn, jumped up and shook herself, as she exclaimed, ’There!  There! that is done!  I wonder whether your papa would come out now?’

‘He is in his study,’ said the girls.

Albinia thought of knocking and calling at the door, but somehow it seemed impossible, and she decided on promenading past his window to show that she was ready for him.  But alas! those evergreens!  She could not see in, and probably he could not see out.

‘Ha!’ cried Lucy, as they pursued their walk into the kitchen garden, ’here are some asparagus coming up.  Grandmamma always has our first asparagus.’

Albinia was delighted to find such an opening.  Out came her knife—­ they would cut the heads and take them up at once; but when the tempting white-stalked, pink-tipped bundle had been made up and put into a basket, a difficulty arose.

‘I’ll call the boy to take it,’ said Lucy.

‘What, when we are going ourselves?’ said Albinia.

‘Oh! but we can’t.’

‘Why?  Do you think we shall break down under the weight?’

‘O no, but people will stare.’

‘Why—­what should they stare at?’

‘It looks so to carry a basket—­’

Albinia burst into one of her merriest peals of laughing.

’Not carry a basket!  My dear, I have looked so all the days of my life.  Bayford must endure the spectacle, so it may as well begin at once.’

‘But, dear mamma—­’

’I’m not asking you to carry it.  O no, I only hope you don’t think it too ungenteel to walk with me.  But the notion of calling a boy away from his work, to carry a couple of dozen asparagus when an able-bodied woman is going that way herself!’

Albinia was so tickled that she could hardly check herself, even when she saw Lucy looking distressed and hurt, and little laughs would break out every moment as she beheld the young lady keeping aloof, as if ashamed of her company, turning towards the steep church steps, willing at least to hide the dreadful sight from the High Street.