t!" said Grizel cordially, and promptly seated herself
at the end of a pew, and extended an arm along the top of the oaken
back, in an attitude of luxurious ease. Exactly what form the "help"
was to take it was difficult to guess, but Miss Bruce was not thinking
of such mundane considerations; her mind was occupied in grasping the
astounding fact that the latest celebrity of the countryside, Mrs
Martin Beverley, late Miss Grizel Dundas, had chosen to single out her
insignificant self, when some of the most important ladies in the parish
were present.

"It's--not very interesting over here," she stammered apologetically.
"Window-sills are so dull. It's impossible to get an effect."

"They _are_ rather muddly, aren't they?" Grizel agreed cheerfully,
casting a roving eye over the branches of greenery, scattered
intermittently with daffodils which had had their day. "But I daresay
no one will look... I don't think I know your name, do I? You haven't
called on me yet?"

Miss Bruce flushed a deep brick-red. Her lips tightened in remembrance
of the old grudge.

"I--don't call!" she said bluntly. "It would not be--acceptable. I am
poor."

"Oh, so am I! There we can sympathise. Isn't it _dull_?" cried Grizel
gaily.

Miss Bruce looked at her in silent disclaimer. No one could look into
Grizel's face and doubt the honesty of her words, but Miss Bruce
reflected tartly that there were different degrees of poverty! Why, the
clothes on the bride's back this morning must have cost a considerable
portion of her own year's income! The white coat hung in strange and
wonderful folds, the outside was severely plain, just a simple,
unadorned cloth garment which an ordinary woman might have worn; but as
she sat, the fronts had fallen apart, and the spinster gazed with awe
upon a gorgeousness of lining such as it had not entered into her brain
to conceive. Ivory brocade, shot through with gold; a band of exquisite
embroidery where the two fabrics met, cascades of delicate lace. Miss
Bruce was fond of coining phrases to express her meaning. She coined
one now, "Muffled magnificence!" It seemed an inconceivable thing that
any woman could allow such richness to be hidden away beneath a cloth
exterior, yet something latent within her applauded the feat. "Muffled
magnificence," she repeated to herself, her gloating eyes taking in each
perfection of detail. Her lips twisted in grim realisation of the
difference in degrees