“What a blessing!” sighed Mrs. Ramsay. “It’s most awkward when Thomas won’t be polite to my friends. I’m glad he likes you. Have you got a dog?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted one,” Elizabeth answered. “My aunt doesn’t care for them. What a beautiful head Thomas has.”

“Hasn’t he? You know, he rules my life, which is sometimes most tiresome. That’s the worst of a dog—yes, and the best too—if you’re really and truly fond of them you can’t stir without them, and then where are you?” She began to pour out the tea. “I was at Seaford. At least, that’s where Thomas landed me. Such an awful place; you can’t wear a hat there without being conspicuous.”

“But why did Thomas land you at Seaford?” Elizabeth asked, considerably mystified.

“Oh, didn’t I explain?” Mrs. Ramsay handed her a plate and made a vague gesture of invitation towards the cake-stand. “The only hotel that would receive Thomas was one at Seaford. No, I believe there was one at Eastbourne, but I couldn’t possibly go there, could I? You can’t go without a hat there, without being conspicuous. No medium. So I went to Seaford, and Thomas loved it. Do have some toast.”

Elizabeth took the toast, and as there didn’t seem to be anything to say she was silent. Mrs. Ramsay gave Thomas a lump of sugar, remarking that it was exceedingly bad for him, and leaned back in her chair, smiling at Elizabeth.

“Poor child, you little know what a mad family you’re marrying into. Someone ought to have warned you. Did Stephen?”

“No,” said Elizabeth, laughing a little.

“What a shame. Still, you’ve met most of us, haven’t you? Even Anthony, and he isn’t mad at all. Quite the reverse, poor old thing. Then there’s the Outer Circle: aunts, you know, and one uncle. Quite a darling, and never will go to bed before three in the morning. I believe there are some cousins, only I’ve forgotten for the moment which they are. Relations are rather trying, aren’t they? especially cousins. So elusive. You meet them once in a blue moon and feel you ought to love them whereas really you hope to goodness you’ll never see them again. Are you cursed with them?”

“No, I’ve no relations except my father and my aunt. My mother was an only child, you see. Oh—as a matter of fact I think I have got some cousins somewhere. Second ones, or once-removed. I don’t quite know, but I’ve never seen them.”

“There you are!” Mrs. Ramsay nodded. “One day they’ll turn up, and you’ll think, What awful people! Backwoodsmen. They always are.”

“Back what?” Elizabeth asked, much amused.

“Backwoodsmen. Isn’t that right? Country-bumpkins, who come on a visit to town and buy clothes at Selfridge’s.”