'No—nobody but me.' She threw her many-tailed boa on the back of the chair that Paul Filey had drawn up for her between the hostess and the place where Borrodaile had been sitting.
'There are two more good trains before dinner——' began Lord John.
'Oh, didn't I tell you,' said his wife, as she gave the cup just filled for the new-comer into the nearest of the outstretched hands—'didn't I tell you I had a note from Mrs. Freddy by the afternoon post? They aren't coming.'
Out of a little chorus of regret, came Borrodaile's slightly mocking, 'Anything wrong with the precious children?'
'She didn't mention the children—nor much of anything else—just a hurried line.'
'The children were as merry as grigs yesterday,' said Vida, looking at their uncle across the table. 'I went on to the Freddys' after the Royal Academy. No!' she put her cup down suddenly. 'Nobody is to ask me how I like my own picture! The Tunbridge children——'
'That thing Hoyle has done of you,' said Lord Borrodaile, deliberately, 'is a very brilliant and a very misleading performance.'
'Thank you.'
Filey and Lord John, in spite of her interdiction, were pursuing the subject of the much-discussed portrait.