‘Mrs. Forster?’
‘No, Lady Forster. She married one of the Forsters of Berkshire. The eldest one, George Forster, is a very good chap; you’ll like him too.’
Susan had grown thoughtful. Dim recollections of the Forsters as being extraordinarily wealthy people have come home to her.
‘I think I told you that Katherine is coming here to celebrate my birthday?’ says Crosby.
‘Yes; but your birthday—when is it?’ asks Susan, anxious to know when these alarming visitors are to arrive.
‘The third of August. Didn’t I tell you? Katherine likes to think she is coming here to do me honour on that day; that’s how she puts it in words. To turn my house upside down, however, is what she really means. But I submit. The old house will stand it. She isn’t half bad, really, and certainly not more than half mad. I think I told you you would like her?’
‘Yes,’ says Susan, who has begun to quake at the brother’s description of his sister. ‘And she will be here—’
‘In about ten days’ time. George—that’s her husband—is a first-class shot, and this place has been pretty well preserved, in spite of its absentee landlord. I hope he will enjoy himself. Katherine is bringing a lot of her friends with her.’
‘Hers?’ Susan’s tone is a little faint. If only this big society dame’s friends—what is going to happen? Mr. Crosby is so kind that he will be sure to make his sister ask her up to the Hall. And how could she (Susan) hold her own with these clever people of the world, people who—
Crosby breaks into her silent fears.