and
dale the day I give a dinner-party," said her ladyship. "Please ring the
bell, Emily. I want to make sure of the fish. Fish is one of the
problems of country life. Fishmongers are demons, and when they live
five miles from one they can arouse the most powerful human emotions."

Mallowe Court was at a distance from the country town delightful in its
effects upon the rusticity of the neighbourhood, but appalling when
considered in connection with fish. One could not dine Without fish; the
town was small and barren of resources, and the one fishmonger of weak
mind and unreliable nature.

The footman who obeyed the summons of the bell informed her ladyship
that the cook was rather anxious about the fish, as usual. The
fishmonger had been a little doubtful as to whether he could supply her
needs, and his cart never arrived until half-past twelve.

"Great goodness!" exclaimed her ladyship when the man retired. "What a
situation if we found ourselves without fish! Old General Barnes is the
most ferocious old gourmand in England, and he loathes people who give
him bad dinners. We are all rather afraid of him, the fact is, and I
will own that I am vain about my dinners. That is the last charm nature
leaves a woman, the power to give decent dinners. I shall be fearfully
annoyed if any ridiculous thing happens."

They sat in the morning-room together writing notes and talking, and as
half-past twelve drew near, watching for the fishmonger's cart. Once or
twice Lady Maria spoke of Lord Walderhurst.

"He is an interesting creature, to my mind," she said. "I have always
rather liked him. He has original ideas, though he is not in the least
brilliant. I believe he talks more freely to me, on the whole, than to
most people, though I can't say he has a particularly good opinion of
me. He stuck his glass in his eye and stared at me last night, in that
weird way of his, and said to me, 'Maria, in an ingenuous fashion of
your own, you are the most abominably selfish woman I ever beheld.'
Still, I know he rather likes me. I said to him: 'That isn't quite true,
James. I am selfish, but I'm not _abominably_ selfish. Abominably
selfish people always have nasty tempers, and no one can accuse me of
having a nasty temper. I have the disposition of a bowl of bread and
milk."

"Emily,"--as wheels rattled up the avenue,--"_is_ that the fishmonger's
cart?"

"No," answered Emily at the window; "it is the butcher."

"His attitude toward t