I prefer you as you are!"

Grizel did not answer, but her eyes softened, and she slipped her hand
an inch forward so that it pressed against the black satin sleeve. She
was thinking happily that she had already two friends in Chumley,
Cassandra, and--the Vicar's wife!

Seeing a pause in the conversation, a small woman in pink satin made a
swoop for the seat next the bride, and eyed her with a bright, birdlike
smile. This was Mrs Fotheringham (with a small "f"), a lady who
combined having nothing to say with a positively uninterrupted flow of
conversation. She overcame the apparent difficulty by pouring forth a
flood of personal questions, from the storehouse of a curiosity which
knew no bounds. She pounced upon Grizel now, as a hawk pounces upon its
prey.

"So pleased to meet you to-night. So unfortunate to miss you when I
called. I've been so longing to meet you. Knew you so well by name.
You were Miss Grizel Dundas?"

"Yes."

"Niece of Lady Griselda?"

"Yes."

"Lived with her, didn't you? Sort of adopted child?"

"Yes."

"All your life?"

"Yes."

"But of course you had parents?--"

"No--"

The "no" was devilment pure and simple, and gave Mrs Fotheringham what
is technically described as a "sensation." She jerked, stared, and
finally forced a wooden laugh.

"Oh, I see. Yes. Stupid of me. Died, I suppose, at your birth?"

"One after. One before."

"How sad. Very eccentric, wasn't she? Lady Griselda, I mean. I've
heard that she was exceedingly--"

"She was."

"But you got on with her? Must have done, of course, or she would
not... Quite attached to you, I suppose?"

"Yes."

"So nice! And you stayed with her until her death, and married
immediately after? It was immediately after, was it not?"

"Several months."

"So nice for you that you had Mr Beverley. He must be a proud man.
Not many women would have given up so much. But I'm sure you never
regret it?"

"Oh, but I do!" cried Grizel. "_Often_!"

She was getting bored by this time, and decided that this might be a
favourable point at which to end the catechism, so she rose and strolled
across the room, leaving Mrs Fotheringham to express her consternation
to the nearest listener.

"How extraordinary! Did you hear? She said she _does_!"

But Mrs Evans had known the question-monger from a child, and stood
upon no ceremony.

"You had no right to put such a question, Flora. It was impertinent.
Mrs Beverley a