), in his books, and
his butterflies, that he saw very little of the people, and knew very
little of what was going on in Banbridge, except through his mother.
Mrs. Anderson, in spite of her years, and a certain lack of strength
which had always hampered her, was quite prominent in Banbridge
society. She was one of the old women whom young girls adore, even
when the adoration is not increased by the existence of a
marriageable son. Sometimes the old lady would regard an unmarried
female-caller with a soft suspicion of ulterior motives, but she
never whispered them to her son. Sylvia Anderson had a lovely, fine
delicacy where the foibles of her own sex were concerned. She was so
essentially feminine herself that she was never quite rid of her
maiden sense of alienation even with her son. She would have been
much happier with a daughter, although she was very fond of her son.

One afternoon in May, a short time after Mrs. Van Dorn and Mrs. Lee
had made their circuit of calls which had included her, some other
ladies were making the rounds in the calling-coach, which drew up
before her door. There were three ladies, two of them unmarried. They
were an elder aunt, her young unmarried niece, and a married lady who
had been the girl friend of the aunt. They made a long call, and Mrs.
Anderson entertained them with tea in her pink-and-gold china cups,
with cream in the little family silver cream-jug, and with slices of
pound-cake. It was an old custom of Mrs. Anderson's which she had
copied all through her married life from Madam Anderson, Randolph's
grandmother, the widow of old Dr. Anderson, the clergyman.

"I always make it a custom, my dear, to keep pound-cake on hand, and
have some of the best green tea in the caddy, and then when callers
come of an afternoon I can offer them some refreshment," she had said
when her son's wife first came to live with her. So Mrs. Anderson had
antedated the modern fashion in Banbridge, but she did not keep a
little, ornate tea-table in her parlor. The cake and tea were brought
in by the one maid on a tray covered with a polka-dotted damask.

This afternoon the callers had their cake and tea, and lingered long
afterwards. Now and then Mrs. Anderson glanced imperceptibly at the
window, thinking her son might pass. She regarded the unmarried aunt
and the young niece with asides of reflection even while she talked
to them. The niece was not pretty, but her bloom of youth under the
roses of