an rug stretching along the crude mosaic of the floor,
the red paper on the walls almost entirely hidden by exceedingly large
and new pictures. Over her head a ponderous iron chandelier carrying
many electric lamps blotted out most of the staircase.

For some minutes she waited in the dining-room into which she had been
shown; for the butler was not at all certain, from a look at the
visitor's mourning, that she was quite entitled to the boudoir.
Victoria's square chin and steady eyes saved her, however, from having
to accommodate her spine to the exceeding perpendicularity of the
high-backed chairs in the hall. The dining-room, ridiculous thought,
reminded her of Curran's. In every particular it seemed the same. There
was the large table with the thick cloth of indefinite design and
colour. The sideboard too was there, larger and richer perhaps, of
Spanish mahogany not an inch of which was left bare of garlands of
flowers or archangelic faces. It carried Curran's looking-glass;
Curran's cruets were replaced by a number of cups which proclaimed that
Charles Rockham had once won the Junior Sculls, and more recently, the
spring handicap of the Kidderwick Golf Club. The walls were red as in
the hall and profusely decorated with large pictures representing
various generations having tea in old English gardens, decorously garbed
Roman ladies basking by the side of marble basins, and such like
subjects. Twelve chairs, all high backed and heavily groined, were
ranged round the walls, with the exception of a large carving chair,
standing at the head of the table, awaiting one who was clearly the head
of a household. Victoria was looking pensively at the large black marble
clock representing the temple in which the Lares and Penates of South
Kensington usually dwell, when the door opened and a vigorous rustle
entered the room.

'I am very glad to see you, Mrs Fulton,' remarked the owner of the
rustle. 'I have just received a letter from Mr Meaker, the vicar of
Cray. A most excellent man. I am sure we can do something for you.
Something quite nice.'

Victoria looked at Lady Rockham with shyness and surprise. Never had she
seen anything so majestic. Lady Rockham had but lately attained her
ladyhood by marrying a knight bachelor whose name was a household word
in the wood-paving world. She felt at peace with the universe. Her large
silk clad person was redolent with content. She did not vulgarly beam.
She merely was. On her capa