"My dear," answered Miss Belinda. "Lady Theobald"--She was really quite
shocked.

"Ah!" interposed Octavia. "I only thought it was cooler."

She preceded them, without seeming to be at all conscious that she was
taking the lead.

"You had better pick up your dress, Miss Octavia," said Lady Theobald
rather acidly.

The girl glanced over her shoulder at the length of train sweeping the
path, but she made no movement toward picking it up.

"It is too much trouble, and one has to duck down so," she said. "It is
bad enough to have to keep doing it when one is on the street. Besides,
they would never wear out if one took too much care of them."

When they went into the parlor, and sat down, Lady Theobald made
excellent use of her time, and managed to hear again all that had tried
and bewildered Miss Belinda. She had no hesitation in asking questions
boldly; she considered it her privilege to do so: she had catechised
Slowbridge for forty years, and meant to maintain her rights until Time
played her the knave's trick of disabling her.

In half an hour she had heard about the silver-mines, the gold-diggers,
and L'Argentville; she knew that Martin Bassett was a millionnaire, if
the news he had heard had not left him penniless; that he would return to
England, and visit Slowbridge, as soon as his affairs were settled. The
precarious condition of his finances did not seem to cause Octavia much