"This afternoon, if possible."
"Oh, well, I'll come down and see your things to-morrow; I may get some new ideas, and we are a little behind-hand with the fashions here," waving once more her mittened hand. "And now to turn to another subject! It's a great responsibility for a young girl like you to be placed at the head of even a small establishment like this! I am older than you are" (it was quite superfluous to mention this fact), "I know the world, and I wish to give you a word of caution."
Helen became crimson.
"I hope you are a steady, sensible girl."
"I hope so, Mrs. Creery," raising her chin in a manner well known to Miss Twigg,—a manner betokening insurrection.
"There now, don't be huffy! I mean to be your friend. I would have come down and stayed here for the first week or two, to set you going, if your father had asked me, as you have no lady in the house; however, I've spoken to him most seriously. All the men in the place will of course be flocking to call, and turning your head with their silly compliments. As a rule they are not a bad set of young fellows; but Mr. Quentin and Captain Rodney are the only two who I should say were in a position to marry,—the others are just paupers—butterflies! Oh, and yes"—here her voice became hollow and mysterious—"I must put you on your guard against a Mr. Lisle."
"A Mr. Lisle!" echoed Helen, opening her eyes very wide.
"Yes, Lisle—don't forget the name. He seldom comes over; he lives at Aberdeen with Mr. Quentin—lives on him, I should say," correcting herself sharply. "He came here a few months ago—goodness knows from where. It is generally believed that he is in hiding—that he is under a cloud; he is poor as a rat, has no visible means of livelihood, and is as close as wax about his past. However, Mr. Quentin shields him, keeps his secret, and there is nothing more to be said except this—don't you have anything to say to him; he may have the impudence to call, but indeed, to give him his due, he does not push. It is a most unpleasant feeling to have this black sheep living in the neighbourhood at all; I wish he was well out of the settlement!" shaking her head expressively.
Helen, amazed at Mrs. Creery's volubility, sat staring at her in speechless surprise. Why should she take such pains to warn her against a man who she admitted did not push, and whom she was not likely to see? Another knocking in the verandah, and a rather timid voice calling "Boy!" announced the arrival of a second visitor, and Mrs. Creery rose, saying,—
"You will be coming up to the General's tennis this evening, and we shall meet again, so I won't say good-bye;" then, casting one last searching glance around the apartment, she, as if seized by some afterthought, hurried across, coolly pulled back the purdah (door-curtain), and looked into the dining-room. "Nothing new there, I see," dropping the drapery after a long, exhaustive stare; "nothing but a filter! Well, au revoir," and nodding approvingly at Helen, she finally took her departure.