She was quite in earnest, and could not be made to see that there was
anything droll in her mourning poignantly for a people so remote.

Another instance of her absent-mindedness recurs to me. The incident
was related at our house one evening, in Ideala's presence, by Mr.
Lloyd, a mutual friend. A clever drawing by another friend, of Ideala
trying to force a cabman to take ten shillings for a half-crown fare--
one of the great fears of her life being the chance of not giving
people of that kind as much as they expected--had caused Ideala to
protest that she _did_ understand money matters.

"O yes, we all know that your capacity for business is quite
extraordinary," Mr. Lloyd said, with a smile that meant something. And
then, addressing us all, he asked: "Did I ever tell you about her
coming to borrow five shillings from me one day? Shall I tell, Ideala?"

"You may, if you like," Ideala answered, getting very red. "But the
story is not interesting."

We all began to be anxious to hear it.

"Judge for yourselves," Mr. Lloyd said. "One day the head clerk came
into my private room at the Bank, looking perplexed and discomfited.
'Please, sir' he said, 'a lady wishes to see you.' 'A lady,' I
answered. 'Ladies have no business here. What does she want?' 'She
would not say, sir, and she would not send in her name. She said it did
not matter.' I began to wonder what I had been doing. 'What is she
like?' I asked. He looked all round as if in search of a simile, and
then he answered: 'Well, sir, she's more like a picture than anything.'