“Ah, but there is a third visitor!” cried the old lady, beaming down on Hugh. “Oh, my dear Lucy, this child is so like both your father and your husband! Look, your father’s strong chin to the very life, and your husband’s kind, laughing eyes! Yes, Lucy, and it is you that have thus moulded two good men into one. Now where is this young man to sit? I know he wants to sit close beside mamma, and he shall have this little stool; and there he is, a knight at the feet of his queen. And now, Florence, how are Mr. Brand and the daughters?”
“Jem is quite well, thanks,” said Florence. “He sends his dutiful regards and best wishes for the New Year. He would have come himself but he is so busy.”
As a matter of fact, Jem had not heard or uttered the old lady’s name for months, did not know that his wife was visiting her, and had himself gone that afternoon to Wimbledon for a game of golf.
Mrs. Bray laughed gaily.
“I expected you both this afternoon,” she said. “I remembered your promise to bring Lucy before the year was out. So I put aside a bit of china for Mr. Brand to take away with him. Oh, a trifle, my dear, very awkward in shape and very heavy! I’ll not think of troubling you with it, but it’s the kind I know he likes, and it can wait till he comes for it. But I tell you, Florence, I must give myself the pleasure of showing you the dress Mr. Bray has given me for the great dinner-party to-morrow, when we dine with the Lord Chief Justice. I’m sure you like to see pretty frocks—you have such pretty ones yourself.” She rang the bell while she spoke, and the genteel, tired maid came in.
“Rachel, bring down my dinner-dress again. I’m afraid you’ve just got it put away? But I must have it down again, please!” and the maid went off.
“I’d just been showing it to an old friend,” Mrs. Bray explained. “But she made me cross by asking whether I was not afraid of a dinner-party for my rheumatism. A memento mori, my dears. But,” she said, turning to Lucy, “here’s a grave face saying to itself that I am a foolish and naughty old woman to care for such frivolities!”
“Oh, no!” protested Lucy. “I was only so sorry that the maid had just put it nicely away.”
“It is all in her duty,” said the old lady with a dash of hauteur. “Rachel is here to do what she is told. It need not matter to her what that is.” Then, as the maid entered with the magnificent robe flung over her arm, the stately old dame gave her instructions how to spread it over an ottoman so as to display its costly lace and elaborate embroidery to the best advantage.
Mrs. Brand exclaimed with admiration, adjusting the folds, and fingering the soft fabric as a connoisseur in its perfections.