“No, but how jolly! By the way, has everybody called? Oh, and did Lady Ribblemere ask after all the family in turn?”

Elizabeth smiled.

“Yes. I wanted to laugh rather, but she was really very kind.”

“She’s quite a dear, only so dreadfully tedious. I must go and see her, I think. I heard that the Tyrells came on a surprise-visit! What a shock for you. I always go to bed early when they stay with me.”

“I didn’t like to do that,” said Elizabeth. “I—Mr. Tyrell has some very—queer ideas.”

“Most immoral, my dear. I hope you told him so. Nothing pleases him more. Next time you see him you’ll find that he has dropped Free Love and taken up Christian Science. So volatile. No, I don’t mean that. What do I mean? Let’s go and ask Stephen.”

“I expect he’s writing,” Elizabeth warned her.

“Then he’ll have to stop.” Away went Mrs. Ramsay, downstairs to the library, with Elizabeth at her heels. “Stephen, stop writing and help me!”

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I want to know what the word is I want instead of volatile.”

He laughed.

“Context, please.”

“My dear, I’ve forgotten what it was. Elizabeth, do come to the rescue!”

Elizabeth explained, much to Mrs. Ramsay’s admiration.

“You probably meant versatile,” said Stephen. “Not that it fits at all.”

“Doesn’t it, Stephen? Never mind, let’s pretend that it does. I’m afraid I’m disturbing you, as Lady Ribblemere would say. I’d like to see the fowls, please, Elizabeth.”

When she had thoroughly inspected everything, Mrs. Ramsay came to the conclusion that Elizabeth was an excellent housekeeper, and said so.

“I try to be,” Elizabeth said, warming under the praise. “But it’s difficult sometimes. People drop in without any warning—and things like that.”

“Don’t let it worry you,” Mrs. Ramsay advised. “It’s a mistake. I did, when I was first married, but I grew out of it. One has to do a lot of adapting.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said slowly. “Yes—one has.”

“If ever you want advice—or help,” Mrs. Ramsay went on, “come to me. Will you?”

“It’s—it’s very kind of you—” Elizabeth stammered.

“No, not a bit. Generally I’m hopelessly unpractical, but I do know a great many things about the Ramsays. Of course, if you had a mother of your own, you wouldn’t need me. But as it is—when—I mean, if—you get in a fix—or you want to talk to someone—come to me. I’m quite safe.”

“Thank you very much indeed,” Elizabeth said. “I will.”

Mrs. Ramsay stayed at Queen’s Halt for a week, and before she left she went for a long walk with Stephen, through the woods. Little by little she coaxed him to talk to her of Elizabeth, and of himself.