"Why wouldn't that perverse woman lunch with me, I wonder?"
Brenda Helston laughed her good, sincere laugh.
"My dear! You invited her niece, not her daughter!"
"O-o-oh! So that was where the shoe pinched," said her ladyship, surprised.
"You should always make allowances for human nature," commented Brenda. "It would not be human for a woman with all those daughters not to be touchy at seeing them passed over. We must propitiate her on Wednesday. I want to get Melicent to myself—to find out what she is thinking and feeling. I shall not be able to say half that I wish to, at the Vicarage."
"I daresay that supplies a second reason for her aunt's refusal!" said her friend, amused. "You and Mr. Helston have a very high opinion of that funny little white-faced girl, have you not?"
"Very!" said Brenda emphatically. "I never saw any creature so famished for the little tendernesses of life, so responsive to kindness, so eager to improve herself. Had you seen her when she first came on board—sullen, farouche, always on the defensive ... and how she melted and sweetened, and blossomed forth! Harry and I positively love her. We always, as you know, longed for a daughter. We have written to Carol Mayne, telling him that we will give her a home if she is not happy with her own people. He was doubtful; he thought the uncle's letter cold-blooded. But really, as I asked him, how could you expect enthusiasm on the part of a man with all those daughters, at the prospect of having another thrust upon him? I told Carol at the time, I liked the writer for being guarded; he could not know what she was."
"Does he strike you," asked Lady Burmester, "as being the kind of man to find out?"
Mrs. Helston hesitated.
"I fear not; he struck me as a dense kind of man. I heard Harry ask him, after service, whether this church were on the site of the old one—whether any of the old material had been built in; and he replied that he did not know, and had never inquired. I am afraid that will settle him, in Harry's estimation!" They both laughed gaily. "Harry looked," said his wife, "much as he might have done, had the vicar said that he did not know who his mother was, and had never inquired."