Pleasure was uppermost at this moment, for so many slight, easy, human
pleasures were new to her. She sat curved on the ground, with the ease
and suppleness of a greyhound ready to spring, whereas Sir Edmund was
forty and a little more stiff than his age warranted.

"But when you do enjoy yourself I imagine it's worth a good many hours
of our friend's sunny existence. Oh, dear, dear!" For at that moment the
dairy was a scene of some confusion; two enormous dogs from the Castle
had bounded up to Lady Groombridge, barking outrageously, and one of
them had covered her companion with mud.

"She is saying that it does not matter in the least, and that the gown
is an old rag, but I'm sure it's new on to-day, and it's impossible to
say how much has not been paid for it."

Molly laughed; she felt as sure that Sir Edmund was right as if she
could hear every word the little woman was saying.

"Well, _that_ you will allow is humbug!"

"Yes, I think I will this time, and I believe, too, that the philosophy
has collapsed. I'm sure she's a mass of ruffled feathers, and her mind
is full of things that she will hurl at the devoted head of her maid
when she gets in. You can only really wound that type of woman to the
quick by touching her clothes. There now, is that severe enough?"

"Why do we always talk of Mrs. Delaport Green?" asked Molly.

"Because she is on trial in your mind and you are not quite sure whether