Before Mrs. Pasmer had time to prepare a conditional mood, adapted either
to their coming that way or going some other, she heard the janitor below
in colloquy with her maid in the kitchen, and then the maid came in to
ask if she should say the ladies were at home. "Oh, certainly," said Mrs.
Pasmer, with a caressing politeness that anticipated the tone she meant
to use with Mavering and his friend. "Were you going, Alice? Better stay.
It would be awkward sending out for you. You look well enough."

"Well!"

The young men came in, Mavering with his nervous laugh first, and then
Boardman with his twinkling black eyes, and his main-force
self-possession.

"We couldn't go away as far as New London without coming to see whether
you had really survived Class Day," said the former, addressing his
solicitude to Mrs. Pasmer. "I tried to find out from, Mrs. Saintsbury,
but she was very noncommittal." He laughed again, and shook hands with
Alice, whom he now included in his inquiry.

"I'm glad she was," said Mrs. Pasmer--inwardly wondering what he meant by
going to New London--"if it sent you to ask in person." She made them sit
down; and she made as little as possible of the young ceremony they threw
into the transaction. To be cosy, to be at ease instantly, was Mrs.
Pasmer's way. "We've not only survived, we've taken a new lease of life
from Class Day. I'd for gotten how charming it always was. Or perhaps it
didn't use to be so charming? I don't believe they have anything like it
in Europe. Is it always so brilliant?"