ip of the golden slippers. She fixed her
eyes steadily on her companion, and there was in them a spark of anger,
before which Cecil had the grace to flush.

"Sorry! Really I am sorry--"

"`Repentance is to _leave_
The sins we loved before,
And show that we in earnest grieve
By doing so No More!'"

quoted Claire sternly. "Really, Cecil, you are the champion wet blanket
of your age. It is too bad. I have to do all the perking up, and you
can't even let me go to a party without damping my ardour. I was
thinking it over the other night, and I've hit on a promising plan. I'm
going to allow you a grumble day a week--but only one. On that day you
can grumble as much as ever you like, from the moment you get up till
the moment you go to bed. You'll be within your rights, and I shall not
complain. I'll have my own day, too, when you can find out what it
feels like to listen, but won't be allowed to say a word in return. For
the rest of the week you'll just have to grin and bear it. You won't be
allowed a single growl."

Cecil knitted her brows, and looked ashamed and uncomfortable, as she
invariably did when taxed with her besetting sin. Claire's charge on
mental poisoning had struck home, and she had honestly determined to
turn over a new leaf; but the habit had been indulged too long to be
easily abandoned. Unconsciously, as it were, disparaging remarks flowed
from her lips, combined with a steady string of objections, adverse
criticisms, and presentiments of darkness and gloom. At the present
moment she felt a little startled to realise how firmly the habit was
established, and the proposal of a licenced grumble day held out some
promise of a cure.

"Then I'll have Monday!" she cried briskly. "I am always in a bad
temper on Mondays, so I shall be able to make the most of my chance."
She was silent for a moment considering the prospect, then was struck
with a sudden thought. "But now and then I _do_ have a nice week-end,
and then I shouldn't want to grumble at all. I suppose I could change
the day?"

There was a ring of triumph in Claire's laugh.

"Not you! My dear girl, that's just what I am counting upon! Sometimes
the sun will shine, sometimes you'll get a nice letter, sometimes the
girls will be intelligent and interesting, and then, my dear, you'll
forget, and the day will skip past, and before you know where you are it
will be Tuesday morning and your chance will have gone. Cecil, f