to greet her aunt, and to do her
little share toward dissipating the awkward chill that had fallen on the
company.

After producing a stammered, 'Oh--a--I thought it was----' the immediate
effect on Mrs. Heriot was to make her both furious and cowed. Though a
nervous stream of talk trickled on, Mrs. Freddy's face did not lose its
flustered look nor did the company regain its ease, until a further
diversion was created by the appearance of Miss Levering with an alert,
humorous-looking man of middle-age in her train.

'Mr. Greatorex was passing just in time to help me out of my hansom,'
was her greeting to Mrs. Freddy.

'And I,' said the gentleman, 'insisted on being further rewarded by
being brought in.'

'_That_ is Miss Levering?' whispered Jean, partly to distract her aunt.

'Yes; why not?' said Lord Borrodaile, overhearing.

'Oh, I somehow imagined her different.'

'She _is_ different,' said Aunt Lydia, with bitter gloom. 'You would
never know in the least what she was like from the look of her.'

Lord Borrodaile's eyes twinkled. 'Is that so?' he said, indulgent to a
mood which hardly perhaps made for dispassionate appraisement.

'You don't believe it!' said Mrs. Heriot. 'Of course not!'

'I was only thinking what a fillip it gave acquaintance to be in doubt
whether a person was a sinner or a saint.'

'It wouldn't for me,' said Jean.

'Oh, you see, you're so Scotch.'

He was incorrigible!

'I didn't hear, who is the man?' Jean asked, as those not knowing
usually did.

Although far from distinguished in appearance, Mr. Greatorex would have
stood in no danger of being overlooked, even if he had not those
twinkling jewel-like eyes, and two strands of coal-black hair trained
across his large bumpy cranium, from the left ear to the right, and
securely pasted there.

'It's that wretched radical, St. John Greatorex.' Mrs. Heriot turned
from her niece to Lord Borrodaile. 'What foundation is there,' she
demanded, 'for the rumour that he tells such good stories at dinner? _I_
never heard any.'

'Ah, I believe he keeps them till the ladies have left the room.'

'You don't like him, either,' said Mrs. Heriot, reaching out for the
balm of alliance with Lord Borrodaile.

But he held aloof. 'Oh, they say he has his points--a good judge of
wine, and knows more about Parliamentary procedure than most of us.'

'How you men stand up for one another! You know perfectly well you can't
endure him.' Mrs. Heriot jer