He noticed the delicacy of the hands, and of her slender body. The face
attracted him--its small neat features, and brown eyes. Clearly a
lady--that was something.

"Well, I shouldn't wonder--if you found her a handful," he said
deliberately.

Mrs. Friend laughed--a little nervous laugh.

"Is she--is she very advanced?"

"Uncommonly--I believe. I may as well tell you candidly she didn't want
to come here at all. She wanted to go to college. But her mother, who was
a favourite cousin of mine, wished it. She died last autumn; and Helena
promised her that she would allow me to house her and look after her for
two years. But she regards it as a dreadful waste of time."

"I think--in your letter--you said I was to help her--in modern
languages--" murmured Mrs. Friend.

Lord Buntingford shrugged his shoulders--

"I have no doubt you could help her in a great many things. Young people,
who know her better than I do, say she's very clever. But her mother and
she were always wandering about--before the war--for her mother's health.
I don't believe she's been properly educated in anything. Of course one
can't expect a girl of nineteen to behave like a schoolgirl. If you can
induce her to take up some serious reading--Oh, I don't mean anything
tremendous!--and to keep up her music---I expect that's all her poor
mother would have wanted. When we go up to town you must take her to