f
she were at home; but I think we ought to do more. The squire will
expect it; and then the question is, dear--what can we do?"

"Just so." The vicar smiled, half amused, half quizzical. "The means
at our disposal are distinctly limited. We can't ask them to dinner,
because the staff is incapable of cooking and serving an extensive
meal."

"And there are only three sherry-glasses left, and Mary broke the round
glass dish last week--the one I always used for the trifle. And the
dinner-service... We really must buy a new dinner-service, Stanford!"

"We really must, Agnes--some time! I think all the objections taken
together put the dinner-party out of the question. Would not a somewhat
more formal tea--"

"No." Mrs Thornton shook her head decidedly. "A formal tea is the
most depressing function imaginable. If it was a little later on, I
would suggest a hay-party. As it is, I am afraid it must be a garden-
party, pure and simple."

The vicar laughed.

"Simple, it certainly would be. Our poor little lawn, one tennis-court,
and the flower-garden a mass of weeds! We can't afford a band of
minstrels, or even the ordinary ices and hothouse fruits. I am afraid
it might be rather a failure, Agnes."

But Mrs Thornton refused to be discouraged.

"Nonsense, dear! People don't expect extravagant entertainments at a
vicarage! The children and I can undertake the weeding, and when that
is done the dear old herbaceous borders will look charming! The lawn is
not big, but there is delightful shade beneath the beech-trees, and we
can draw the piano up to the drawing-room window, and get a few people
to sing for us--Maud Bailey and Mrs Reed; and I believe Mr Druce has a
fine voice. I'll ask him to be very kind, and give us a song. As for
refreshments, I can give good tea and coffee, and the best cream for
miles around, and people can exist without ices for once in a way.
Given a bright, fine day, I could manage beautifully!"

"I have no doubt you could. But why go through the ceremony of asking
my advice, Mistress Thornton, when your mind has been made up from the
beginning? Go your ways--go your ways! I wash my hands of all
responsibility!" cried the vicar, laughing, as he walked back to his
study, leaving his wife to sit down to her desk and make out a lengthy
list of guests, which included everyone of note for miles round.

During the days to come Mr Thornton often sympathised with his wife on
the amo