The conversation was chiefly carried on by kindly little Mrs. Joshua and by Mrs. Holt, who seemed at once to preside and to dominate. She praised Honora's gown, but left a lingering impression that she thought her overdressed, without definitely saying so. And she made innumerable—and often embarrassing—inquiries about Honora's aunt and uncle, and her life in St. Louis, and her friends there, and how she had happened to go to Sutcliffe to school. Sometimes Honora blushed, but she answered them all good-naturedly. And when at length the meal had marched sedately down to the fruit, Mrs. Holt rose and drew Honora out of the dining room.
“It is a little hard on you, my dear,” she said, “to give you so much family on your arrival. But there are some other people coming to-morrow, when it will be gayer, I hope, for you and Susan.”
“It is so good of you and Susan to want me, Mrs. Holt,” replied Honora, “I am enjoying it so much. I have never been in a big country house like this, and I am glad there is no one else here. I have heard my aunt speak of you so often, and tell how kind you were to take charge of me, that I have always hoped to know you sometime or other. And it seems the strangest of coincidences that I should have roomed with Susan at Sutcliffe.”
“Susan has grown very fond of you,” said Mrs. Holt, graciously. “We are very glad to have you, my dear, and I must own that I had a curiosity to see you again. Your aunt struck me as a good and sensible woman, and it was a positive relief to know that you were to be confided to her care.” Mrs. Holt, however, shook her head and regarded Honora, and her next remark might have been taken as a clew to her thoughts. “But we are not very gay at Silverdale, Honora.”
Honora's quick intuition detected the implication of a frivolity which even her sensible aunt had not been able to eradicate.
“Oh, Mrs. Holt,” she cried, “I shall be so happy here, just seeing things and being among you. And I am so interested in the little bit I have seen already. I caught a glimpse of your girls' home on my way from the station. I hope you will take me there.”
Mrs. Holt gave her a quick look, but beheld in Honora's clear eyes only eagerness and ingenuousness.
The change in the elderly lady's own expression, and incidentally in the atmosphere which enveloped her, was remarkable.
“Would you really like to go, my dear?”
“Oh, yes indeed,” cried Honora. “You see, I have heard so much of it, and I should like to write my aunt about it. She is interested in the work you are doing, and she has kept a magazine with an article in it, and a picture of the institution.”