We were dressed at quarter-past seven, when, in looking at the invitation again, we discovered that the dinner-hour was eight o'clock, not seven-thirty.
Susanna did not happen to know the exact approximate distance to Fotheringay Crescent, but the maiden Boots affirmed that it was only two minutes' drive, so we sat down in front of the fire to chat.
It was Lady Baird's birthday feast to which we had been bidden, and we had done our best to honour the occasion.

We had prepared a large bouquet tied with the Maclean tartan (Lady Baird is a Maclean), and had printed in gold letters on one of the ribbons, 'Another for Hector,' the battle-cry of the clan.

We each wore a sprig of holly, because it is the badge of the family, while I added a girdle and shoulder-knot of tartan velvet to my pale green gown, and borrowed Francesca's emerald necklace,--persuading her that she was too young to wear such jewels in the old country.
Francesca was miserably envious that she had not thought of tartans first.

"You may consider yourself 'geyan fine,' all covered over with Scotch plaid, but I wouldn't be so 'kenspeckle' for worlds!" she said, using expressions borrowed from Mrs.M'Collop; "and as for disguising your nationality, do not flatter yourself that you look like anything but an American.

I forgot to tell you the conversation I overheard in the tram this morning, between a mother and daughter, who were talking about us, I dare say.