"What very strange people my cousin does get hold of!" said Miss Lexden, commencing the onslaught directly the door was closed. "Which Mr. Beresford is it, do you suppose?"
The question was general, but Mr. Townshend answered it, by saying pompously,
"Perhaps it's Mr. Beresford, one of the Directors of the Bank of England, who--"
"God forbid!" broke in Lyster, suddenly.
"Amen to that sweet prayer," said Barbara, in a low voice. Then louder: "Oh, dear, let's hope it's not an old gentleman from the City."
"No, no; don't fear," said Major Stone, laughing. "You all know him. It's Charley Beresford, from the Tin-Tax Office."
"What! the Commissioner?" exclaimed little Miss Townshend, clapping her hands. "Oh, I am so glad! He is such fun!"
"Oh, every body knows Mr. Beresford," said Vincent; "capital judge of cooking; on the committee of the Beauclerk."
"I'm afraid I'm nobody, then," said old Miss Lexden; "what age is he?"
"Oh, same age as every body else," drawled Lyster. "I find every body's the same age,--seven-and-twenty. Nobody ever goes beyond that."