Before the little party took leave, my aunt, much to my astonishment, invited them to dinner, for as a rule she never extended hospitality to the Dower House guests.
No sooner had they left us than a chorus of remarks arose, all in praise of Mrs. Hayes-Billington. Bev was particularly loud and eloquent. His mother and sister agreed that she was handsome, smart, and not in the least the usual type of officer's wife that drifted home from India, washed out, flabby and dowdy.
Mrs. Hayes-Billington's appearance of an evening was positively dazzling; in fact, I may say that the effect of her beauty on a country cousin like myself was almost overwhelming. She wore a rose-coloured gown, very _décolletée_, a diamond bandeau in her dark wavy hair, and was undoubtedly the queen of the company. What was Aunt Mina in dark green velvet? What was I, in my new white _crêpe de Chine_? Merely the background of an exquisite picture.
We were a party of twelve; four from the Dower House, five of ourselves, the rector and his wife (she was a bishop's daughter) and young Tom Champneys, a neighbour. Uncle took in Mrs. Hayes-Billington, who sat between him and Bev. I came next to Bev, with Captain Paget-Taylor on my left hand. At the head of the table Aunt Mina was supported by Captain Hayes-Billington and the rector. Mrs. Hayes-Billington talked away with great animation to my uncle. She discoursed of pig-sticking, jackal hunting, and racing, and asked many questions about our local pack; but somehow I received an impression that she and my uncle did not hit it off. It struck me that my usually voluble relation was somewhat reserved in his manner, though always the polite and attentive host. Occasionally she addressed herself to Bev, and found him eagerly responsive.
From the other end of the table I could hear Captain Hayes-Billington relating experiences and stories to Aunt Mina and the rector in a loud, jovial voice. I caught one or two stories--chestnuts, no doubt--with regard to a certain class called "Baboos." One of them had announced that "the army was a glorious profession in time of peace, but in time of war highly dangerous." Another, who had given his seat to a lady, on her saying she was sorry to deprive him of it, replied, "No depravity, madam!" The raconteur laughed so uproariously at his own anecdotes that his hearers were compelled to join--even my aunt accorded a fixed smile.