esist your delicious scones, Mrs Hunt.--Home-made? You
don't say so. I wish my cook could make them."--"Thank you, Delia; I
_will_ take another cup of coffee: yours is always so good."--"Such a
pleasant afternoon! Dear me, nearly five o'clock? How time
flies."--"Dr Hunt very busy? Fever in Back Row? So sorry. But
decreasing? So glad."--"Good-bye, _dear_ Mrs Hunt. We meet next
Thursday, I hope?"--and so on, until the last lady had said farewell and
smiled affectionately at her hostess, and a sudden silence fell on the
room, left in the possession of Delia and her mother.

"Del, my love," said the latter caressingly, "go and put the
drawing-room straight, and see that all those things are cleared away.
I will try to get a little nap. Dear old Mrs Crow had so much to tell
me that my head quite aches."

Delia went into the deserted drawing-room, where the chairs and tables,
standing about in the little groups left by their late occupiers, still
seemed to have a confidential air, as though they were telling each
other interesting bits of news. She moved about with a preoccupied
frown on her brow, picking up morsels of silk from the floor, rolling up
strips of serge, and pushing back chairs and tables, until the room had
regained its ordinary look. Then she stretched her arms above her head,
gave a sigh of relief, and strolled out of the open French windows into
the garden. The air was very calm and still, so that various mingled
noises from the town could be plainly heard, though not loudly enough to
produce more than a subdued hum, which was rather soothing than
otherwise. Amongst them the deep recurring tones of the church bell,
ringing for evening prayers, fell upon Delia's ear as she wandered
slowly up the gravel path, her head full of busy thoughts.

They were not wholly pleasant thoughts, and they had to do chiefly with
two people, one very well known to her, and the other quite a stranger--
Mr Goodwin, and his grandchild, Anna Forrest. Delia could hardly make
up her mind whether she were pleased or annoyed at the idea of Anna's
arrival. Of course she was glad, she told herself, of anything that
would please the "Professor," as she always called Mr Goodwin; and she
was curious and anxious to see what the new-comer would be like, for
perhaps they might be companions and friends, though Anna was two years
younger than herself. She could not, however, prevent a sort of
suspicion that made her feel uneas