becoming ridge. Her eyes were larger than her mother's, though of the
same colour, and her hair was of a deeper shade of auburn. Her costume
was of a kind that may be described as the floppily artistic.

"I never heard you come in, my dear," said her mother. "Did you enjoy
your lecture?"

"Quite; I took pages and pages of notes. Nietzsche's _Gospel of the
Superman_ is certainly most striking."

"And _what_ is his Gospel exactly?"

"Oh, well, he teaches that the ideal man ought to rise superior to
conventional prejudices, and have the courage to do as he thinks right
without deferring to ordinary ideas. To be strong in willing what he
wants--all that sort of thing, you know."

"Dear me!" said Mrs. Wibberley-Stimpson dubiously. "But, if everybody
acted like that, would it be quite--er--nice?"

"There's no fear of any of the men in Gablehurst being Supermen, at all
events!" said Edna. "They're all perfect slaves to convention! But the
lecturer explained the Nietzschean theories in such a way that he made
us feel there was a great deal to be said for them.... No tea, thanks. I
had mine at the Fletchers. It looks," she added, with a glance at the
tea-cups, "as if you had been entertaining some one, Mother--who was
it?"

"Only Lady Harriet," replied Mrs. Stimpson, with elaborate carelessness.

"_What_ Lady Harriet?" was the intentionally provoking query.

"Really, Edna, one would think there were dozens of them! _The_ Lady
Harriet: Lady Harriet Elmslie, of course."

"Oh," said Edna. "And what did _she_ want?"

"Well, she _came_ to ask after Saunders' character, but she stayed to
tea, and we really struck up quite an intimate friendship, discussing
one thing and another. She's so quiet and unassuming, Edna--absolutely
no _hauteur_. I'm sure you will like her. I told her about you all, and
she seemed _so_ interested. Quite between ourselves, I shouldn't be at
all surprised if she got us invited to take part in the Pageant--she's
on the Committee, you know."

"If I _was_ invited, Mother, I'm not at all sure I shouldn't refuse."

"You must please yourself about that, my dear," said Mrs. Stimpson, who,
perhaps, felt but little anxiety as to the result. "_I_ shall certainly
accept if the part is at all suitable."

She might have said more, if Ruby had not suddenly burst into the room.
Ruby was certainly the flower of the family--an extremely engaging young
person of about ten, whose mischievous golden-brown eyes had