James had divined that if he came at a fixed hour they would all have tuned their minds to a certain key, and he would see nothing of their natural state.
They went to the lawn, and James was introduced to a pair of buxom, healthy-looking girls, panting a little after their violent exercise. They were dressed in white, in a rather masculine fashion, and the only sign of mourning was the black tie that each wore in a sailor's knot. They shook hands vigorously (it was a family trait), and then seemed at a loss for conversation; James, as was his way, did not help them, and they plunged at last into a discussion about the weather and the dustiness of the road from Ashford to their house.
Presently a loose-limbed young man strolled up, and was presented to James. He appeared on friendly terms with the two girls, who called him Bobbikins.
"How long have you been back?" he asked. "I was out in the Imperial Yeomanry—only I got fever and had to come home."
James stiffened himself a little, with the instinctive dislike of the regular for the volunteer.
"Oh, yes! Did you go as a trooper?"
"Yes; and pretty rough it was, I can tell you."
He began to talk of his experience in a resonant voice, apparently well-pleased with himself, while the red-faced girls looked at him admiringly. James wondered whether the youth intended to marry them both.
The conversation was broken by the appearance of Mr. Larcher, a rosy-cheeked and be-whiskered man, dapper and suave. He had been picking flowers, and handed a bouquet to one of his guests. James fancied he was a prosperous merchant, who had retired and set up as a country gentleman; but if he was the least polished of the family, he was also the most simple. He greeted the visitor very heartily, and offered to take him over his new conservatory.
"My husband takes everyone to the new conservatory," said Mrs. Larcher, laughing apologetically.