"My cousin Maria ought to do it," remarked Lord Walderhurst, "but she
will not--neither shall I. Tell me something about the elevated railroad
and Five-Hundred-and-Fifty-Thousandth Street." He had a slightly rude,
gracefully languid air, which Cora Brooke found somewhat impressive,
after all.

Emily Fox-Seton handed cake and regulated supplies with cheerful tact
and good spirits. When the older people were given their tea, she moved
about their tables, attending to every one. She was too heart-whole in
her interest in her hospitalities to find time to join Lady Maria and
her party at the table under the ilex-trees. She ate some
bread-and-butter and drank a cup of tea while she talked to some old
women she had made friends with. She was really enjoying herself
immensely, though occasionally she was obliged to sit down for a few
moments just to rest her tired feet. The children came to her as to an
omnipotent and benign being. She knew where the toys were kept and what
prizes were to be given for the races. She represented law and order and
bestowal. The other ladies walked about in wonderful dresses, smiling
and exalted, the gentlemen aided the sports in an amateurish way and
made patrician jokes among themselves, but this one lady seemed to be
part of the treat itself. She was not so grandly dressed as the
others,--her dress was only blue linen with white bands on it,--and she
had only a sailor hat with a buckle and bow, but she was of her
ladyship's world of London people, nevertheless, and they liked her more
than they had ever liked a lady before. It was a fine treat, and she
seemed to have made it so. There had never been quite such a varied and
jovial treat at Mallowe before.

The afternoon waxed and waned. The children played games and raced and