A diversion was just then created by the Lanyons’ old nurse, who came into the room looking for Venetia. Finding that Mr. Yardley, of whom she approved, was with her young mistress she at once begged pardon, said that her business could wait, and withdrew again. But Venetia, preferring a domestic interlude, even if she were obliged to inspect worn sheets or listen to complaints of the younger servants’ idleness, to the company of her ill-assorted admirers, rose to her feet, and in the kindest possible way dismissed them, saying that she would find herself in disgrace with Nurse if she kept her waiting.

“I have been neglecting my duties, and if I don’t take care shall be subjected to a dreadful scold,” she said, smiling, and holding out her hand to Oswald. “So I must send you both away. Don’t be vexed! you are such old friends that I don’t stand on ceremony with you.”

Not even Edward’s presence could deter Oswald from raising her hand to his lips, and pressing a fervent kiss upon it. She received this with unruffled equanimity, and upon recovering her hand held it out to Edward. But he only smiled, and said: “In a moment!” and held open the door for her. She went past him into the hall, and he followed her, firmly shutting his rival into the breakfast-parlour.

“You should not encourage that stupid boy to dangle after you,” he remarked.

“Do I encourage him?” she said, looking surprised. “I thought I behaved to him as I do to Aubrey. That’s how I regard him—except,” she added thoughtfully, “that Aubrey doesn’t want for sense, and seems much older than poor Oswald.”

“My dear Venetia, I do not accuse you of flirting with him!” he replied, with an indulgent smile. “Nor am I jealous, if that’s what you are thinking!”