Naturally there's not much going on there when there's such a lot of illness about.Touchett's very bad, you know; the doctors have forbidden his being in England at all, and he has only come back to take care of his father.The old man, I believe, has half a dozen things the matter with him.They call it gout, but to my certain knowledge he has organic disease so developed that you may depend upon it he'll go, some day soon, quite quickly.Of course that sort of thing makes a dreadfully dull house; I wonder they have people when they can do so little for them.Then I believe Mr.Touchett's always squabbling with his wife; she lives away from her husband, you know, in that extraordinary American way of yours.If you want a house where there's always something going on, I recommend you to go down and stay with my sister, Lady Pensil, in Bedfordshire.I'll write to her tomorrow and I'm sure she'll be delighted to ask you.I know just what you want- you want a house where they go in for theatricals and picnics and that sort of thing.My sister's just that sort of woman;she's always getting up something or other and she's always glad to have the sort of people who help her.I'm sure she'll ask you down by return of post: she's tremendously fond of distinguished people and writers.She writes herself, you know; but I haven't read everything she has written.It's usually poetry, and I don't go in much for poetry- unless it's Byron.I suppose you think a great deal of Byron in America," Mr.Bantling continued, expanding in the stimulating air of Miss Stackpole's attention, bringing up his sequences promptly and changing his topic with an easy turn of hand.Yet he none the less gracefully kept in sight of the idea, dazzling to Henrietta, of her going to stay with Lady Pensil in Bedfordshire."Iunderstand what you want; you want to see some genuine English sport.The Touchetts aren't English at all, you know; they have their own habits, their own language, their own food- some odd religion even, I believe, of their own.The old man thinks it's wicked to hunt, I'm told.You must get down to my sister's in time for the theatricals, and I'm sure she'll be glad to give you a part.I'm sure you act well; I know you're very clever.My sister's forty years old and has seven children, but she's going to play the principal part.Plain as she is she makes up awfully well- I will say for her.Of course you needn't act if you don't want to."In this manner Mr.Bantling delivered himself while they strolled over the grass in Winchester Square, which, although it had been peppered by the London soot, invited the tread to linger.Henrietta thought her blooming, easy-voiced bachelor, with his impressibility to feminine merit and his splendid range of suggestion, a very agreeable man, and she valued the opportunity he offered her."I don't know but I would go, if your sister should ask me.I think it would be my duty.What do you call her name?""Pensil.It's an odd name, but it isn't a bad one.""I think one name's as good as another.But what's her rank?""Oh, she's a baron's wife; a convenient sort of rank.You're fine enough and you're not too fine.""I don't know but what she'd be too fine for me.What do you call the place she lives in- Bedfordshire?""She lives away in the northern corner of it.It's a tiresome country, but I dare say you won't mind it.I'll try and run down while you're there."All this was very pleasant to Miss Stackpole, and she was sorry to be obliged to separate from Lady Pensil's obliging brother.But it happened that she had met the day before, in Piccadilly, some friends whom she had not seen for a year: the Miss Climbers, two ladies from Wilmington, Delaware, who had been travelling on the Continent and were now preparing to re-embark.Henrietta had had a long interview with them on the Piccadilly pavement, and though the three ladies all talked at once they had not exhausted their store.It had been agreed therefore that Henrietta should come and dine with them in their lodgings in Jermyn Street at six o'clock on the morrow, and she now bethought herself of this engagement.She prepared to start for Jermyn Street, taking leave first of Ralph Touchett and Isabel, who, seated on garden chairs in another part of the enclosure, were occupied- if the term may be used- with an exchange of amenities less pointed than the practical colloquy of Miss Stackpole and Mr.Bantling.When it had been settled between Isabel and her friend that they should be reunited at some reputable hour at Pratt's Hotel, Ralph remarked that the latter must have a cab.She couldn't walk all the way to Jermyn Street.
"I suppose you mean it's improper for me to walk alone!" Henrietta exclaimed."Merciful powers, have I come to this?""There's not the slightest need of your walking alone," Mr.Bantling gaily interposed."I should be greatly pleased to go with you.""I simply meant that you'd be late for dinner," Ralph returned.
"Those poor ladies may easily believe that we refuse, at the last, to spare you.""You had better have a hansom, Henrietta," said Isabel.
"I'll get you a hansom if you'll trust me," Mr.Bantling went on.
"We might walk a little till we meet one.""I don't see why I shouldn't trust him, do you?" Henrietta enquired of Isabel.
