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‘Oh, Anna! As soon as you’d gone out father told me that Mr. Mynors was coming for supper. Did you know before?’

‘Not till Mr. Mynors told me, dear.’ It was characteristic of her father to say nothing until the last moment.

‘Yes, and he told me to put an extra plate, and I asked him if I had better put the beef on the table, and first he said " No,” cross—you know—and then he said I could please myself, so I put it on. Why has Mr. Mynors come, Anna?

‘How should I know? Some business between him and father, I expect.’

‘It’s very queer,’ said Agnes positively, with the child’s aptitude for looking a fact squarely in the face.

‘Why “queer”?’

‘You know it is, Anna,’ she frowned, and then breaking into a joyous smile: ‘But isn’t he nice? I think he’s lovely.’

‘Yes,’ Anna assented coldly.

‘But really?’ Agnes persisted.

Anna brushed her hair and determined not to put on the apron which she usually wore in the house.

‘Am I tidy, Anna?’

‘Yes. Run downstairs now. I am coming directly.’

‘I want to wait for you,’ Agnes pouted.