et Miss Gordon's
ideal. Her companion was something of a shock, however. Mrs. Oliver
was stout and red-faced, and was dressed to play the part of twenty
when Manager Time had cast her for approaching fifty. Miss Gordon
would have pronounced any other woman, with such an appearance and a
less illustrious relative, not only ungenteel but quite common, and the
sort of person Lady Gordon would never have recognized on the streets
of Edinburgh.

But Mrs. Jarvis was Mrs. Jarvis, and whoever was related to her must
surely be above the ordinary in spite of appearances.

Mrs. Jarvis was looking down at Elizabeth with a smile illuminating her
sad face. "So this is the little baby with the big eyes my dear
husband used to talk so much about." She heaved a great sigh. "Ah,
Miss Gordon, you cannot understand what a lonely life I have led since
my dear husband was taken from me."

Miss Gordon expressed warm sympathy. She was a little surprised at the
expression of grief, nevertheless, for she had always understood that,
as far as the companionship of her husband went, Mrs. Jarvis had always
led a lonely life.

"Mr. Jarvis was always very much interested in Elizabeth," she said
diplomatically. "I understand it was he who named her."

"She doesn't seem to have inherited your talent for the stage, Aunt
Jarvis," said the stout lady, laughing. "Horace, did you hear me
telling you to put on your overcoat? We must go at once."

Miss Gordon looked alarmed. It would be fatal if they left without
some further word.

"I am sure Elizabeth would like to express her pleasure at meeting you,
Mrs. Jarvis," she said, suggestively. "She has been wanting an
opportunity to thank you for your many kind remembrances."

She glanced down at her niece, and Elizabeth realized with agony that
this was the signal for her to speak. She thought desperately, but not
a gleam of one of those stately speeches she had prepared showed
itself. She was on the verge of disgracing her aunt again when Mrs.
Oliver mercifully interposed.

"Aunt Jarvis," she cried sharply, "we really must be going. The horses
are ready. Come, Horace, put on your overcoat this instant, sir."

But Master Horace was not to be ordered about by a mere mother. He
jerked himself away from her and caught his aunt's hand.

"Aunt Jarvis," he said in a wheedling tone, "we're coming out here to
visit Lizzie's place some day, ain't we? You promised now, don't you
remember?"