"Offensive--against whom?"

"Cousin Philip--if necessary."

Mrs. Friend again shook her head.

"Oh, you're in his pocket already!" cried Helena with a grimace. "But
never mind. I'm sure I shall like you. You'll come over to my side soon."

"Why should I take any side?" asked Mrs. Friend, drawing on a pair of
black gloves.

"Well, because"--said Helena slowly--"Cousin Philip doesn't like some of
my pals--some of the men, I mean--I go about with--and we _may_ quarrel
about it. The question is which of them I'm going to marry--if I marry
any of them. And some of them are married. Don't look shocked! Oh,
heavens, there's the gong! But we'll sit up to-night, if you're not
sleepy, and I'll give you a complete catalogue of some of their
qualifications--physical, intellectual, financial. Then you'll have the
_carte du pays_. Two of them are coming to-morrow for the Sunday. There's
nobody coming to-night of the least interest. Cynthia Welwyn, Captain
Vivian Lodge, Buntingford's cousin--rather a prig--but good-looking. A
girl or two, no doubt--probably the parson--probably the agent. Now you
know. Shall we go down?"

* * * * *

The library was already full when the two ladies entered. Mrs. Friend was
aware of a tall fair woman, beautifully dressed in black, standing by
Lord Buntingford; of an officer in uniform, resplendent in red tabs and
decorations, talking to a spare grey-haired man, who might be supposed to
be the agent; of a man in a round collar and clerical coat, standing
awkward and silent by the tall lady in black; and of various other girls
and young men.

All eyes were turned to Helena as she entered, and she was soon
surrounded, while Lord Buntingford took special care of Helena's
companion. Mrs. Friend found herself introduced to Lady Cynthia Welwyn,
the tall lady in black; to Mr. Parish, the grey-haired man, and to the
clergyman. Lady Cynthia bestowed on her a glance from a pair of prominent
eyes, and a few civil remarks, Mr. Parish made her an old-fashioned bow,
and hoped she had not found the journey too dusty, while the clergyman,
whose name she caught as Mr. Alcott, showed a sudden animation as they
shook hands, and had soon put her at her ease by a manner in which she at
once divined a special sympathy for the stranger within the gates.

"You have just come, I gather?"

"I only arrived this afternoon."

"And you are to look after Miss Helena?" he smiled.

Mrs. Frie