names to visitors."

"But you can show me without telling me."

The lady's hand moves quietly to the attendant's hand. Pause and
silence.

"I am going to pass round the tables," says the lady's interlocutor,
without seeming to address her. "Follow me with your eyes. The boy that
I stop at and speak to, will not matter to you. But the boy that I
touch, will be Walter Wilding. Say nothing more to me, and move a little
away."

Quickly acting on the hint, the lady passes on into the room, and looks
about her. After a few moments, the attendant, in a staid official way,
walks down outside the line of tables commencing on her left hand. She
goes the whole length of the line, turns, and comes back on the inside.
Very slightly glancing in the lady's direction, she stops, bends forward,
and speaks. The boy whom she addresses, lifts his head and replies. Good
humouredly and easily, as she listens to what he says, she lays her hand
upon the shoulder of the next boy on his right. That the action may be
well noted, she keeps her hand on the shoulder while speaking in return,
and pats it twice or thrice before moving away. She completes her tour
of the tables, touching no one else, and passes out by a door at the
opposite end of the long room.

Dinner is done, and the lady, too, walks down outside the line of tables
commencing on her left hand, goes the whole length of the line, turns,
and comes back on the inside. Other people have strolled in, fortunately
for her, and stand sprinkled about. She lifts her veil, and, stopping at