you kindly take charge of a little parcel for me? One of the Miss
Strangeways asked me to look for some old franks, so Anne and I have
been turning out my drawers."

"Are they for sale?" asked Raymond.

"Yes," said Cecil. "Bee Strangeways is collecting; she will pay for
all that are new to her, and sell any duplicates."

"Has she many?" asked Mrs. Poynsett, glad of this safe subject.

"Quantities; and very valuable ones. Her grandfather knew
everybody, and was in the Ministry."

"Was he?" said Raymond, surprised.

"Lord Lorimer?" said Mrs. Poynsett. "Not when I knew them. He was
an old-fashioned Whig, with some peculiar crotchets, and never could
work with any Cabinet."

"Beatrice told me he was," said Cecil, stiffly.

"I rather think he was Master of the Buckhounds for a little while
in the Grey Ministry," said Mrs. Poynsett, "but he gave it up
because he would not vote with ministers on the poor laws."

"I knew I was not mistaken in saying he was in the Ministry," said
Cecil.

"The Master of the Buckhounds is not in the Cabinet, Cecil," said
her husband.

"I never said he was. I said he was in office," returned the
infallible lady.

Mrs. Poynsett thought it well to interrupt by handing in an envelope
franked by Sir Robert Peel; but Cecil at once declared that the
writing was different from that which Bee already owned.

"Perhaps it is not the same Sir Robert," said Mrs. Poynsett.

"She got it from the Queen, and they are all authenticated. The
Queen newspaper, of course" (rather petulantly).

"Indisputable," said Raymond; "but this frank contained a letter
from the second Sir Robert to my father."

Mrs. Poynsett made a sign of acquiescence, and Cecil pouted in her
dignified way, though Mrs. Poynsett tried to improve matters by
saying, "Then it appears that Miss Strangeways will have a series of
Peel autographs, all in fact but the first generation."

Common sense showed she was right, but Cecil still felt
discontented, for she knew she had been resisted and confuted, and
she believed it was all Mrs. Poynsett's doing instead of Raymond's.

And she became as mute as Anne for the next half-hour, nor did
either Raymond or his mother venture on starting any fresh topic,
lest there might be fresh jarring.

Only Anne presently came up to Mrs. Poynsett and tenderly purred
with her over some little preparation for Miles.

Certainly Anne was the most improved in looks of all the three
brides,