"Oh! I don't think so; at least, the opinion is all one way. Don't
you think Miss Rose beautiful, Mr. Layard?" she said, turning to her
companion.

"Ripping," said that gentleman, with emphasis. "But I wish she wouldn't
beat one at tennis; it is an insult to the stronger sex."

Mary looked at him reflectively. His sister looked at him also.

"And I am sure that you think her beautiful, don't you, Morris?" went on
the imperturbable Mary.

"Certainly, of course; lovely," he replied, with a vacuous stare at the
elderly wife of the baronet.

"There, Miss Layard, now you collect the opinions of the gentlemen
all along your side." And Mary turned away, ostensibly to talk to her
cavalier; but really to find out what could possibly interest Morris so
deeply in the person or conversation of Lady Jones.

Lady Jones was talking across the table to Mr. Tomley, the departing
rector, a benevolent-looking person, with a broad forehead adorned like
that of Father Time by a single lock of snowy hair.

"And so you are really going to the far coast of Northumberland, Mr.
Tomley, to exchange livings with the gentleman with the odd name? How
brave of you!"

Mr. Tomley smiled assent, adding: "You can imagine what a blow it is