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  'I was speaking metaphorically,' answered Miss Farlow, in outraged accents. 'It is not to be supposed that you could stall an ox anywhere in Bath, for you may depend upon it that it would contravene the regulations. I daresay you wouldn't be permitted to stall a cow, and that would be of far more use to you!'

  'So it would!' agreed Miss Wychwood, much struck.

  'Oxen and cows have nothing to do with the case!' said Miss Farlow, dissolving into tears. 'My sensibilities have been deeply wounded, Annis! When I heard you invite that young woman to come here to be a companion to you, I suffered an – an electrical shock from which I fear my nerves will never recover!'

  Perceiving that her elderly cousin was very much upset, Annis applied herself to the task of soothing her lacerated feelings. It took time and patience to mollify Miss Farlow, and although she succeeded in convincing her that she stood in no danger of being dismissed she failed to reconcile her to Lucilla's presence in Camden Place. 'I cannot like her, cousin,' she said impressively. 'You must forgive me if I say that I am astonished that you should have offered her the hospitality of your home, for in general you have such very superior sense! Mark my words, you will live to regret it!'

  'If I do, Maria, you will have the comfort of being able to say that you told me so! But what reason could I possibly have for not rescuing that child from a very awkward predicament?'

  'It's my belief,' said Miss Farlow darkly, 'that the story she told you was a take-in! A very hurly-burly young female I thought her! So coming – quite brass-faced indeed! Such a want of delicacy, running away from her home, and in the company of a young gentleman! No doubt I am oldfashioned, but such conduct doesn't suit my sense of propriety. What is more, I am very sure dear Sir Geoffrey would disapprove quite as strongly as I do!'

  'Probably more strongly,' said Annis. 'But I hardly think he could be so foolish as to call her either coming or brass-faced!'

  Miss Farlow quailed under the sparkling look of anger in Annis's eyes, and embarked on a confused speech which incoherently mixed an apology with a great deal of self-justification. Annis cut her short, telling her that she expected her to treat Lucilla with civility. She spoke with most unusual severity, and when the afflicted Miss Farlow sought refuge in tears was wholly unmoved, merely recommending her to go upstairs and to unpack her trunk.

  Two

  When Miss Wychwood had changed her travelling dress for one of the simple cambric gowns she wore when she meant to spend the evening by her own fireside, and had endured a scold from Miss Jurby on the subjects of wilfulness, imprudence, and what her papa would have said had he been alive, she went to tap on the door of the Pink bedchamber, and, upon being bidden to come in, found her protégée charmingly attired in sprig muslin, only slightly creased from having been packed in a portmanteau, and with her dusky curls brushed free of tangles. They clustered about her head, in the artless style known as the Sappho, which, to Miss Wychwood's appreciative eyes, was not only very becoming, but which emphasized her extreme youth. Round her neck was clasped a row of pearls. This demure necklace was the only jewellery she wore, but Miss Wychwood did not for a moment suppose that the absence of trinkets denoted poverty. The pearls were real, and just the thing for a girl newly emerged from the schoolroom. So was that sprig muslin dress, with its high waist and tiny puff sleeves, but its exquisite simplicity stamped it as the work of a high class modiste. And the shawl which Lucilla was about to drape around her shoulders was of Norwich silk, and had probably cost its purchaser every penny of fifty guineas. It was plain to be seen that Lucilla's unknown aunt had ample means and excellent taste, and grudged the expenditure of neither on the dressing of her niece. It was equally plain that such a fashionable damsel, bearing all the appearance of one born to an independence, would never find favour with Mrs Nibley.

  Lucilla said apologetically that she feared her dress was sadly crumpled. 'The thing was, you see, that I haven't been in the way of packing, ma'am.'

  'I shouldn't think you've ever done so before, have you?'

  'Well, no! But I couldn't ask my maid to do it for me, because she would have instantly told my aunt. That,' said Lucilla bitterly, 'is the worst of servants who have known one since one was a baby!'

  'Very true!' agreed Annis. 'I am afflicted with several myself and know just how you feel. Now, tell me by what name I am to present you to people!'

  'I did think of calling myself Smith,' said Lucilla doubtfully. 'Or – or Brown, perhaps. Some very ordinary name!'

  'Oh, I shouldn't choose anything too ordinary!' said Annis, shaking her head. 'It wouldn't suit you!'

  'No, and I am persuaded I should come to hate it,' said Lucilla naïvely. She hesitated for a moment. 'I think I'll keep my own name, after all, on account of not being rag-mannered, which I'm afraid I was, when I wouldn't let Ninian tell you what it is. I was in dread that you might betray me to my horrid uncle, but that was because I didn't know you, or how kind you are. So I'll tell you, ma'am. It's Carleton – with an E in the middle,' she added conscientiously.

  'I will take care not to reveal the E to a living soul,' promised Annis, with perfect gravity. 'Anyone could be called Carlton without an E in the middle, but the E gives distinction to the name, and that, of course, is what you wish to avoid. So now that we have settled that problem let us go down to the drawing-room and await Mr Elmore's arrival!'

  'If he does arrive!' said Lucilla unhopefully. 'Not that it signifies if he doesn't, except that my conscience will suffer a severe blow, even though it wasn't my fault that he came with me. But if he gets into a hobble I shall never cease to blame myself for having left him quite stranded!'

  'But why should he be stranded?' said Annis reasonably. 'We left him some eight miles short of Bath – not in the middle of a desert! Even if he can't hire a vehicle, he might easily walk the rest of the way, don't you think?'

  'No,' said Lucilla, sighing. 'He wouldn't think it at all the thing. I don't care a button for such antiquated flummery, but he does. I am excessively attached to him, because I've known him all my life, but I cannot deny that he is sadly wanting in – in dash! In fact, he is a pudding-heart, ma'am!'

  'Surely you are too severe!' objected Miss Wychwood, ushering her into the drawing-room. 'Of course, I am barely acquainted with him, but it did not seem to me that he was wanting in dash! To have aided and abetted you in your flight was not the action of a pudding-heart, you must own!'

  Lucilla frowned over this, and tried, not very successfully, to explain the circumstances which had led young Mr Elmore to embark on what was probably the only adventure of his blameless career. 'He wouldn't have done it if he hadn't been sure that Lord Iverley would have thought it the right thing,' she said. 'Though I daresay Lord Iverley will blame him for not having stopped me, which is wickedly unjust, and so I shall tell him if he gives poor Ninian one of his scolds! For how could he expect Ninian to be full of pluck when he has brought him up to be a pattern-card of – of amiable compliance? Ninian always does exactly what Lord Iverley wishes him to do – even when it comes to offering for me, which he doesn't in the least want to do! And for my part I don't believe Lord Iverley would have a fatal heart-attack if Ninian refused to obey him, but Lady Iverley does think so, and has reared Ninian to believe that it is his sacred duty not to do anything to put his papa out of curl. And I will say this for Ninian: he has a very kind heart, besides holding Lord Iverley in great affection, and having pretty strict notions of – of filial duty; and I daresay he would liefer do anything in the world than drive his papa into his grave.'

  Surprised, Miss Wychwood said: 'But is Lord Iverley – I collect he is Ninian's father? – a very old man?'

  'Oh, no, not very old!' replied Lucilla. 'He is the same age as my papa would have been, if papa hadn't died when I was just seven years old. He was killed at Corunna, and Lord Iverley – well, he wasn't Lord Iverley then, but Mr William Elmore, because old Lord Iverley was still alive – but, in any event, he brought my papa's sword, and h