The stout widow and two stout spinster daughters, who made up the inmates, quite deserved Mrs.Vrain's epithet of "heavy." They were aggressively healthy, with red cheeks, black hair, and staring black eyes devoid of expression; a trio of Dutch dolls would have looked more intellectual.
They were plainly and comfortably dressed; the drawing-room was plainly and comfortably furnished; and both house and inmates looked thoroughly respectable and eminently dull.

What such a hawk as Mrs.Vrain was doing in this Philistine dove-cote, Lucian could not conjecture; but he admired her tact in making friends with a family whose heavy gentility assisted to ballast her somewhat light reputation; while the three of their brains in unison could not comprehend her tricks, or the reasons for which they were played.
"At all events, these three women are too honest to speak anything but the truth," thought Lucian while undergoing the ordeal of being presented.

"So I'll learn for certain if Mrs.Vrain was really here on Christmas Eve." The Misses Pegall and their lace-capped mamma welcomed Lucian with heavy good nature and much simpering, for they also had an eye to a comely young man; but the cunning Lydia they kissed and embraced, and called "dear" with much zeal.

Mrs.Vrain, on her part, darted from one to the other like a bird, pecking the red apples of their cheeks, and cast an arch glance at Lucian to see if he admired her talent for manoeuvering.
Then cake and wine, port and sherry, were produced in the style of early Victorian hospitality, from which epoch Mrs.Pegall dated, and all went merry as a marriage bell, while Lydia laid her plans to have herself exculpated in Lucian's eyes without being inculpated in those of the family.
"We have just come up from our place in Somerset," explained Mrs.
Pegall, in a comfortable voice.

"The girls wanted to see the sights, so I just said, 'we'll go, dears, and perhaps we'll get a glimpse of the dear Queen.' I'm sure she has no more loyal subjects than we three." "Are you going out much this year, dear Mrs.Vrain ?" asked Beatrice Pegall, the elder and plainer of the sisters.
"No, dear," replied Lydia, with a sigh, putting a dainty handkerchief to her eyes.