rs, went into the vicarage to
enjoy a supper of scraps. As a rule I adore scrap suppers after
everyone has gone, and the servants have gone to bed, and the guests
make sorties into the pantry, and bring out plates of patties and fruit,
and derelict meringues, and wobbling halves of jellies and creams. They
taste so _good_, eaten in picnic fashion before the fire, with a
shortage of forks and spoons, and a plate as a lucky chance. But
somehow last night things didn't go! I think perhaps there were too
many "scraps" which should by rights have been sold and paid for in good
hard cash. The Vicar was full of hospitable zeal, and evidently enjoyed
pressing the good things upon his guests, but there was something in
Delphine's pale glance which checked merriment. She had had her fun,
the interest of planning, the excitement of playing hostess to the
country-side, the satisfaction of knowing herself to be the
best-dressed, most admired woman present, and of queening it over women
who had hitherto patronised herself. Poor little butterfly! she had
enjoyed her hour, but now the sun had gone down, and she was counting
the cost. The treasurer added up the coins handed in from the various
stalls and announced the total. There was a little pause.

"Ah!" said the Vicar slowly. "More than last year, but not so much as
we hoped. How will it work out, dear, after paying expenses?"

"Oh, Jacky, I'm _tired_! Can't we have supper in peace, before worrying
about money!" she cried pettishly.

Not another word was said.

When we were driving home, Charmion gave me a shock.

"I rather like Mrs Maplestone," she said dreamily. "She is stiff and
conventional, and it has never even occurred to her that anyone can
disagree with her views, and still have a glimmering of right, but, at
least, she is sincere. If one could burrow deep enough beneath the
surface, she'd be worth knowing."

"I don't like people who have to be burrowed. Life is too short. And I
am perfectly certain that I should shock her into fits. Personally, I
don't intend to take the trouble of excavating!"

"That's unfortunate, for she wishes to know you. She has invited us to
dinner next Wednesday to meet some friends."

"Charmion! You didn't accept?"

"Certainly I did. Wasn't it your express desire to be sociable, and to
know your neighbours?"

"Oh, not them--not there! It's pleasant knowing a few people, but one
is at liberty to choose. I think you