Mrs Redwood, a gentle-looking lady, kissed me effusively, so did little Miss Gwen, who having once begun could scarcely be prevailed upon to leave off.

The servants smiled approvingly, as did a lady visitor, who shook me by the hand.

The only person who did not appear to rejoice to see me was the heroine of the occasion, Miss Mamie, who declined altogether to kiss me, and added I was a naughty big boy to spoil her nice sash, and ought to be sent to bed.
To her mother's protests and brother's encouragement she was quite obdurate.

No; she hated me, she said, for spoiling her nice sash, and wild horses would not draw from her a contrary declaration.
After which we were summoned to tea, and I was consoled for this base ingratitude by plum jam and "sally-lunn" and sultana cake and other delicacies, which only a schoolboy, well on in the term, knows how fully to appreciate.
The talk was limited; first because I made it a rule not to talk with my mouth full, and secondly, because, had that difficulty been removed, I had nothing to say.

Redwood, fine fellow that he was, did not try to pump me, and the ladies, who kept up most of the talk, most conveniently worded their observations in such a form as not to call for a reply.
After tea, however, I did find myself talking to Mrs Redwood about my mother, and presently to Redwood about Dangerfield and my previous acquaintance with Tempest and Brown.
"Brown iii.