The Miss Aimwells loudly accused Miss St Clair, when she had left the drawing room, of affectation and missiness.

“So actress-like, so disgusting, as if we did not all feel as much.”

“I am sure” (said their interesting mother), “I felt far, far more. I shall not be well for a week.” Miss Price had a brother, loved perhaps better than he deserved, and she instantly considered her own feelings with those of Alixe's and undertook her defence.

“I have heard Miss St Clair had a brother at sea. Perhaps she has lost him, and in that case…”

“Well, we will ask Lady Townley,” said Miss Aimwell. And skipping or tripping across the room, she said to Lady Townley, who was cutting the stalk of a geranium and at the same time viewing herself in the mirror opposite:

“Dear Lady Townley, I am afraid that story has affected Miss St Clair.”

“Yes, poor little thing. I saw something was the matter at dinner-time.”

“She has a brother at sea, has she not?”

“Yes.”

“I thought perhaps he had been drowned.”

“Drowned? Oh no, he is quite well, or was, when they last heard from him. Is not this a beautiful specimen of the Duchess of York geranium?”

“Yes, indeed. They seem to me to grow better than ever in your greenhouse. You are not a witch are you, dear Lady Townley?”

“No,” said the Lady smiling. “I leave all arts of witching to you young ladies, you and your sister in particular.”

“Yes, Lady Townley, you will quite spoil us, and what will Mamma say?”

And after this serious enquiry about Miss St Clair, Annette Aimwell returned to her seat.

“Well?” said her sister enquiringly, “what of her brother?”

“Oh, he was quite, quite well in their last letter, so you see it must be affectation after all,” said the amiable young lady, turning to Miss Price.

“No, I cannot say I am convinced. Even if he is not drowned, he was at risk every hour of losing his life. If war was to come on, you would feel very unhappy about your brother, and Mr St Clair's is quite as uncertain a profession as Captain Aimwell’s.”

“Yes, but if war was to come on” said the persevering Annette, “I would not go out at all rather than expose myself to strangers.”