She looked up gravely, but with a certain kindled enthusiasm, far more impressive than a girl's laughter.
"Miss Lutwyche!" she said reproachfully. "I shall not allow that. As for you, you are not a bit changed. I should know you anywhere—Bond Street, or darkest Africa."
"What about me, Miss Lutwyche?" cried Lance pleadingly.
"You have improved," she said, with an air of critical appraisement. "You are not nearly so—lady-like as you used to be."
They all laughed.
"Are you still a crack shot, as you used to be?" he cried.
"I shoot every autumn. I have improved," she replied demurely.
When Captain Brooke had been presented, they all sat down, and the talk hung fire a little.
"It is too big," said Melicent, with a little sigh. "There is so much to say, we don't know where to begin. Mr. Mayne, I know, is thinking of me with my hair in a pig-tail, and a calico frock, slouching across the yard with a copper bucket; and Mr. Burmester is thinking of a time when I was locked up in disgrace in the Vicarage schoolroom, and not allowed to go to a picnic; and Captain Brooke is thinking how disagreeable it is of people to have reminiscences he cannot share."
Captain Brooke smiled a little.