There was a pause. Then Miss Field added:

"You mustn't think it odd that I say these things about Rachel. I have
to explain her to people. She's not like anybody else."

Doris did not quite see the necessity, but she kept the reflection to
herself, and Miss Field passed lightly to the other guests--Sir Luke, a
tame cat of the house, who quarrelled with Lady Dunstable once a month,
vowed he would never come near her again, and always reappeared; the
Dean, who in return for a general submission, was allowed to scold her
occasionally for her soul's health; the politicians whom she could not
do without, who were therefore handled more gingerly than the rest; the
military and naval men who loved Dunstable and put up with his wife for
his sake; and the young people--nephews and nieces and cousins--who
liked an unconventional hostess without any foolish notions of
chaperonage, and always enjoyed themselves famously at Crosby Ledgers.

"Now then," said Miss Field, rising at last, "I think you have the
_carte du pays_--and there they are, coming back." She pointed to
Meadows and Lady Dunstable, crossing the lawn. "Whatever you do, hold
your own. If you don't want to play games, don't play them. If you want
to go to church to-morrow, go to church. Lady Dunstable of course is a
heathen. And now perhaps, you might _really_ rest."

"Such a jolly walk!" said Meadows, entering his wife's room flushed
with exercise and pleasure. "The place is divine, and really Lady
Dunstable is uncommonly good talk. Hope you haven't been dull, dear?"

Doris replied, laughing, that Miss Field had taken pity on what would
otherwise have been solitary confinement, and that now it was time to