The maid, recoiling, sat down with a bump on one of the wooden chairs, and the Walrond girls, a merry, good-looking, unkempt crew (no boy had put in an appearance in all that family), burst into screams of laughter.

Anthony apologised profusely; the maid, ejaculating that she didn't mind, not she, jumped up and ran for the duck; and the Reverend Septimus, a very different Septimus to him whom we met a month or so before, seizing his hand, shook it warmly, calling out: "Julia, my dear, never mind that beef.

I haven't said grace yet.

Here's Anthony." "Glad to see him, I am sure," said Mrs.Walrond, her eyes still fixed upon the beef, which was obviously burnt at one corner.

Then with a shrug, for she was accustomed to such accidents, she rose to greet him.
Mrs.Walrond was a tall and extremely good-looking lady of about fifty-five, dark-eyed and bright complexioned, whose chestnut hair was scarcely touched with grey.