"A caller, probably," sighed her mother. "How tiresome people are. See who it is, Milroy, and then bring tea."
The butler, who had entered from the dining-room, crossed the hall to the curtained alcove which screened the front door.
"Hardly a caller on an afternoon like this," said Sylvia, shivering delicately. "It is raining in sheets."
"My experience," replied Lady Adela peevishly, "has always been that when one's neighbours have made up their minds to be thoroughly annoying, no weather will stop them."
Simultaneously with this truthful but gloomy reflection Lady Adela composed her fine features into an hospitable smile of welcome and rose to her feet.
"Misterilands!" announced Milroy, drawing back the curtain of the outer hall.
Lady Adela, still smiling, rolled an enquiring eye in the direction of her daughter.
"New curate!" hissed Sylvia.
Through the curtained archway advanced a short, sturdy, spectacled young man, dumbly resisting Mr. Milroy's gracious efforts to relieve him of his hat and stick.
Lady Adela extended her hand.