Cecil laughed, but had time to resume her somewhat prim dignity
before the lengthened disembarkation was over, and after all,
produced only four persons; but then none were small--Mrs. Bowater
was a harsh matron, Mr. Bowater a big comely squire, the daughters
both tall, one with an honest open face much like Herbert's, only
with rather less youth and more intelligence, the other a bright
dark glowing gipsy-faced young girl.

Eleonora Vivian, hitherto gravely stiff and reserved, to poor
Frank's evident chagrin, at once flashed into animation, and met the
elder Miss Bowater with outstretched hands, receiving a warm kiss.
At the same time Mr. Bowater despatched Frank to see whether his
mother could admit a visitor; and Lady Tyrrell observed, "Ah! I was
about to make the same petition; but I will cede to older friends,
for so I suppose I must call you, Mr. Bowater--though my
acquaintance is of long standing enough!"

And she put on a most charming smile, which Mr. Bowater received
with something inarticulate that might be regarded as a polite form
of 'fudge,' which made Cecil think him a horribly rude old man, and
evidently discomposed his wife very much.

Frank brought back his mother's welcome to the Squire; but by this
time Eleonora and Miss Bowater had drawn together into a window, in
so close and earnest a conversation that he could not break into it,
and with almost visible reluctance began to talk to the younger
sister, who on her side was desirous of joining in the bazaar
discussion, which had been started again in full force; until there
was a fresh influx of visitors, when Lady Tyrrell decidedly took