“Just a little tact and thought,” said Temperley with a sigh.
Lady Engleton admired Algitha, who was standing with Ernest a little apart from the group.
“She is like your wife, and yet there is a singular difference in the expression.”
Lady Engleton was too discreet to say that Mrs. Temperley lacked the look of contentment and serenity that was so marked in her sister’s face.
“Algitha is a thoroughly sensible girl,” said the brother-in-law.
“I hear you have not long returned from a visit to Mr. Fullerton’s place in Scotland, Mr. Temperley,” observed the vicar’s wife when her host turned to address her.
“Yes,” he said, “we have been there half the summer. The boys thoroughly enjoyed the freedom and the novelty. The river, of course, was a source of great joy to them, and of hideous anxiety to the rest of us.”
“Of course, of course,” assented Mrs. Walker. “Ah, there are the dear little boys. Won’t you come and give me a kiss, darling?”
“Darling” did what was required in a business-like manner, and stood by, while the lady discovered in him a speaking likeness to his parents, to his Aunt Algitha and his Uncle Fred, not to mention the portrait of his great-grandfather, the Solicitor-General, that hung in the dining-room. The child seemed thoroughly accustomed to be thought the living image of various relations, and he waited indifferently till the list was ended.
“Do you know, we are half hoping that Professor Fortescue may be able to come to us for a week or ten days?” said Lady Engleton. “We are so looking forward to it.”