"They are both very well in their way, my dear. I am a wicked old
woman, who like to have everything gay. I never go out of town till
everything is over, and I never come up till everything begins. We have
a nice place down in Scotland, and you must come and see me there some
autumn. And then we go to Rome. It's a pleasant way of living, though
we have to move about so much."

"It must cost a great deal of money?"

"Well, yes. One can't drive four-in-hand so cheap as a pair. Mr. Jones
has a large income." This was the first direct intimation Mary had ever
received that there was a Mr. Jones. "But we weren't always rich. When
I was your age I hadn't nearly so nice a house as you. Indeed, I hadn't
a house at all, for I wasn't married, and was thinking whether I would
take or reject a young barrister of the name of Smith, who had nothing
a year to support me on. You see I never got among the aristocratic
names, as you have done."

"I don't care a bit about that."

"But I do. I like Germains, and Talbots, and Howards, and so does
everybody else, only so many people tell lies about it. I like having
lords in my drawing-room. They look handsomer and talk better than
other men. That's my experience. And you are pretty nearly sure with
them that you won't find you have got somebody quite wrong."

"I know a lord," said Mary, "who isn't very right. That is, I don't
know him, for I never saw him."

"You mean your wicked brother-in-law. I should like to know him of all
things. He'd be quite an attraction. I suppose he knows how to behave
like a gentleman?"

"I'm not so sure of that. He was very rough to papa."

"Ah;--yes. I think we can understand that, my dear. Your father hasn't
made himself exactly pleasant to the Marquis. Not that I say he's
wrong. I think it was a pity, because everybody says that the little
Lord Popenjoy will die. You were talking of me and my glories, but long
before you are my age you will be much more glorious. You will make a
charming Marchioness."

"I never think about it, Mrs. Jones; and I wish papa didn't. Why
shouldn't the little boy live? I could be quite happy enough as I am if
people would only be good to me and let me alone."

"Have I distressed you?" asked the old woman.

"Oh, dear no;--not you."

"You mean what happened at my house the other night?"

"I didn't mean anything particular, Mrs. Jones. But I do think that
people sometimes are very ill-natured."

"I think, you know,