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Sir Anthony looked surprised, and a decided shade of annoyance crossed Mrs. Rankin's pleasant face.

      "A friend of my wife's," Sir Anthony repeated in a puzzled tone, then his face cleared. "Why, that is how it is your face seemed familiar to me directly I saw it. I have seen your photograph in Judith's album. Of course; now I remember, my wife was with you before she came to Heron's Carew, wasn't she?"

      Mrs. Rankin's pleasant comely face was still darkened by vexation. She made an obvious effort to respond to Sir Anthony's smile.

      "Yes, Lady Carew was with us for two years; we were all exceedingly fond of her," she said, a certain reserve apparent in her tone.

      "I am sure you must have been," Lady Palmer chimed in. "I assure you when your daughter found that Lady Carew was ill; and unable to give away the prizes at the Wembley Show, she was so frightfully disappointed that I had hard work to console her."

      "What?" Sir Anthony looked across in some surprise. "Is it possible that Miss Rankin was at Wembley Show? Why didn't she come over to Heron's Carew? I am sure my wife would have been delighted to see her."

      "Silly child, so I told her," Lady Palmer agreed.

      "Oh, Sophie was not in the neighbourhood very long," Mrs. Rankin said hurriedly. "She stayed for a few days at Marchfield Vicarage with the Canon's sister, but I know she had a good many engagements. I dare say she had no time to get over to Heron's Carew, kind of you as it is to think of it, Sir Anthony. Another time perhaps—"

      "Another time she must certainly come," Sir Anthony said decidedly. "You must let us know when she is in the neighbourhood, please, Mrs. Rankin."

      "Thank you, you are very kind," Mrs. Rankin returned in a distinctly non-committal tone.

      "Oh, dear Mrs. Rankin, I don't think it was altogether want of time," Lady Palmer said plaintively. "I gathered from Miss Rankin that you had told her she was not to go to Heron's Carew unless Judith spoke to her first, or something of that sort. That was why the poor child was so disappointed not to see her at the show."

      It did not escape Lady Palmer's eyes that as she spoke one of Mrs. Rankin's black-gloved hands suddenly tightened itself upon the arm of her chair, that there was a certain momentary compression of her lips.

      She did not answer for a moment then she looked at Sir Anthony, a lurking shadow in her blue eyes, though her lips were smiling. "As you have said so much, Lady Palmer, I think I must explain. To tell the truth, though perhaps I ought not to say it, we have felt a little hurt, both Canon Rankin and myself, that Lady Carew has taken absolutely no notice of us since her marriage. I would not have Sophie thrusting herself upon her, and therefore I told Mrs. May that, much as Sophie might wish it, I would rather she did not go over."

      Sir Anthony looked embarrassed. "I am sure there is some mistake, probably a letter has miscarried, or Judith may have called, and your servants may have forgotten to tell you. In any case I am sure Judith would never forget her old friends; it would not be like her. I have always heard her speak of your family in terms of warm affection, and I am sure she will be delighted to hear I have met you, and will look forward to renewing your acquaintance."

      "You are very kind. I think myself it is probable that there is some mistake," Mrs. Rankin returned. There was a slight relaxing of her features, she drew a tiny breath of relief, and put her handkerchief to her lips for a moment, as Sir Anthony turned to speak to Mrs. Dawson.

      Lady Palmer crossed over and took the chair next Mrs. Rankin, her soft black gown falling in graceful folds round her slim figure. "I want your girl to dine with me one day this week," she began in her sweet caressing tone. "I have a young cousin in town, and though of course I can't do any real entertaining just now I thought I might give the two a little dinner, and perhaps some music afterwards. Your girl sings, doesn't she?"

      "In an amateurish way; still, it is useful in the parish sometimes," Mrs. Rankin replied.

      Lady Palmer's eyes watched her from beneath their lids. What was it the woman was afraid of, she asked herself. What brought that look of being on the defensive on her face directly Judith's name was mentioned? Why did she turn pale and shiver when Sir Anthony was speaking to her?

      She leaned forward a little in her chair. "I am going to try and make Miss Rankin as fond of me as she is of my cousin, Lady Carew."

      Mrs. Rankin's face stiffened instantly. "It is exceedingly kind of you."

      "Now which day can she come?" said Lady Palmer. "Let me see—Thursday or Friday will suit me best. Which would she prefer, do you think?"

      Mrs. Rankin shook her head. "I am afraid neither day is possible. On Thursday we are all dining out, and on Friday she is having a friend from the country to spend the day with her."

      Lady Palmer's eyes narrowed. "Next week then. Of course I am not going out now, so I am comparatively free. Which day shall we say?"

      "Oh, next week?" Mrs. Rankin was sitting bolt upright now, her hands in their black kid gloves were folded in her lap. "Next week," she went on, "Sophie will be away from home, I am sorry to say, Lady Palmer. She is going down to stay with some cousins in the Isle of Wight."

      "I am so sorry," Lady Palmer said gently, as Mrs. Dawson rose, and Mrs. Rankin, with an air of relief, followed her example. "Well, I must hope to be more fortunate another time." She gave Mrs. Rankin one of her flashing smiles, as she spoke.

      The smile was still lingering round her lips when, Sir Anthony having escorted the visitors to their carriage, she lay back in her chair and awaited his return. "So Sophie knows," she murmured beneath her breath. "Sophie knows at least enough to put me on the track. Ah, well! I think I shall manage to have an interview with Sophie before very long, and then Lady Carew may look out."

      Chapter XIX

       Table of Contents

      "So—so I am disappointed!" Peggy ended with a little shiver in her voice.

      Stephen Crasster, walking by her side down the Dower House drive, set his teeth together for an instant before he turned and looked down at her, his features relaxing.

      "Why are you disappointed, Peggy?"

      "I have told you," Peggy answered, her eyes downcast, her face looking mutinous. "I wanted you and Lorrimer to be friends—real friends!"

      There was a smile in Stephen's kind eyes as he glanced at the long upcurled lashes, at the pretty, wilful mouth.

      "Won't you bring Lord Chesterham to lunch with me at Talgarth to-morrow?"

      Peggy clapped her hands childishly, her small face aglow, her vexation for the time being forgotten.

      "I should love to. I have been wanting to see what you have been doing at Talgarth so much. I thought it was so funny you didn't ask me."

      "Did you?" Stephen questioned quietly. "Well, you must come to-morrow, Peggy, you and Chesterham. I wanted Talgarth to be in apple-pie order before you saw it. Certainly to-morrow you will have to make allowances."

      "That will be ever so much more fun," Peggy returned rapturously. "I don't think I like places in apple-pie order. Oh!"—a rich blush mantling her cheeks, as a motor turned in at the lodge gates. "Why I believe this is—"

      "So do I," returned Stephen with a whimsical half smile.

      But she was looking at the motor; her eyes were smiling at the man in the driver's seat. She hardly heard Stephen's hurried apology for a leave-taking, hardly noticed that he had left her, striding off to the side gate which was nearest to Carew village. Chesterham pulled up the car and jumped out.

      "Will you come for a spin, sweetheart? What do you think of the car? Isn't she a beauty, goes like a bird—sixty miles an hour, when the police are not about."

      Peggy laughed. "I should love a ride, Lorrimer; will you take me over to Talgarth to lunch to-morrow?"

      "Talgarth!"