Matty, I put Captain Bertram into your charge. Albert," she continued,
looking at young Bell, "will you and Daisy arrange a set for tennis?"

How Albert Bell did bless Beatrice! In a moment or two all the visitors
were perambulating about the garden. Mr. Jones was escorted on one side
by Polly Jenkins, on the other, he, in his turn, tried to escort Mabel
Bertram, who did not talk a great deal and seemed somewhat out of her
element. Catherine and Beatrice walked together, and Mrs. Meadowsweet,
still sitting in her arm-chair, smiled as she saw them.

"That's a nice girl, and a fine looking girl," she murmured, "and very
good company for my Bee. Very good company for her. Yes, the Bertrams
are stylish but not of our set. My word, not a bit of our set. Bee, of
course, might talk to anybody, but the rest of us--no, no, I'm the first
to see the fitness of things, and the Bertrams don't belong to us nor we
to them. Bee takes after her father, poor man, but the rest of us, we
have no right to know the Bertrams. Now, do look at that young captain.
Why, he's making the little Bells laugh themselves into fits. Dear me,
I'd better go out. These girls don't know manners, and their heads will
be turned by that fine young spark. They are certain to believe any
rubbish he talks to them."

Mrs. Meadowsweet rose with difficulty, stepped out of the open window,
and sailed in her rose-colored satin across the grass.

"Now, what's up?" she said. "Fie, fie, Matty, your laugh is for all the
world like a hen cackling."

"He, he!" exclaimed the younger girls.