given to a parrot-phrase which made her tiresome. She blushed up to her
ears.

"People are kind," she said hesitatingly. "I--you see, I have nothing to
give, and I always seem to be receiving."

"What luck!" remarked his lordship, calmly gazing at her.

He made her feel rather awkward, and she was at once relieved and sorry
when he walked away to join another early riser who had come out upon
the lawn. For some mysterious reason Emily Fox-Seton liked him. Perhaps
his magnificence and the constant talk she had heard of him had warmed
her imagination. He had never said anything particularly intelligent to
her, but she felt as if he had. He was a rather silent man, but never
looked stupid. He had made some good speeches in the House of Lords, not
brilliant, but sound and of a dignified respectability. He had also
written two pamphlets. Emily had an enormous respect for intellect, and
frequently, it must be admitted, for the thing which passed for it. She
was not exacting.

During her stay at Mallowe in the summer, Lady Maria always gave a
village treat. She had given it for forty years, and it was a lively
function. Several hundred wildly joyous village children were fed to
repletion with exhilarating buns and cake, and tea in mugs, after which
they ran races for prizes, and were entertained in various ways, with
the aid of such of the house-party as were benevolently inclined to make
themselves useful.

Everybody was not so inclined, though people always thought the thing
amusing. Nobody objected to looking on, and some were agreeably