"Oh, forts," murmured everybody.
"They are," continued Lord Semingham apologetically, "in the nature of a prophecy at present, as I understand."
"A very bad prophecy, according to Bessie," said Mrs. Dennison.
"I hope," said the Baron, shaking his head, "that the official name is more correct than Lady Semingham's."
"So do I," said Marjory; and added, before she could think not to add, and with unlucky haste, "my brother's going out, you know."
Mrs. Dennison looked at her. Then she crossed over to her, saying to Adela,
"You never let me have a word with my own guest, except at breakfast and bedtime. Come and walk up and down with me, Marjory."
Marjory obeyed; the group began to scatter.
"But didn't they look like tombstones, Baron?" said Bessie Semingham again, as she sat down and made room for the old man beside her. When she had an idea she liked it very much. He began to be voluble in his reproof of her gloomy fancies; but she merely laughed in glee at her ingenuity.
Adela, by a gesture, brought Semingham to her side and walked a few paces off with him.