So it happened that Mr. and Mrs. Dodson were escorted to their carriage and started off, and that Leicester and Bertie spent the afternoon resting in Violet's drawing-room and conservatory, and that, while Bertie was absorbed in conversation with the captain, Leicester was left to exchange notes and opinions with Violet.
Perhaps it did not seem so dull to Miss Mildmay that afternoon, and perhaps Mr. Leicester was not altogether unhappy, stretching his long legs among her ferns and flowers.
At seven o'clock on the following evening the Park carriage dashed up to the door of the Cedars, and the guests alighted.
"Fancy calling upon 'those people, the tallow chandlers,' auntie," whispered Violet, wickedly, as they were ushered through the immense hall to the magnificent drawing-room.
"Hush, my dear! they will hear you," murmured Mrs. Mildmay, warningly, as Mrs. Dodson came forward to greet them.
But Violet was shaking hands with Mr. Leicester and Mr. Fairfax, the latter looking particularly handsome and yellow-haired in his evening dress.
"The Boisdales have not come yet," said Mr. Dodson; "but they are coming."
"And here they are," said Leicester, as another carriage, not quite so well appointed as the wealthy Mildmays', dashed up.
Violet looked toward the door, with some curiosity, which was transformed to pleased interest as Lady Ethel entered.
Violet, whose likes and dislikes were most sudden, and oftentimes unaccountable, liked Ethel at first sight.