she knew, and the two were friends, although the
circumstances of their lives were wide apart.

The two ladies were followed by the four girls, who came in chattering,
and by Mrs. Graham, who, even in evening clothes, with a necklace of
diamonds, looked as if she liked dogs. Then came Humphrey,
extraordinarily well dressed, his dark hair very sleek; and Dick, very
well dressed too, but with less of a town air; and then the Squire, just
upon the stroke of eight, obviously looking forward to his dinner.

"Nina, what on earth can have become of Tom and Grace?" he asked when he
had greeted Mrs. Graham and Muriel. "No sign of 'em anywhere. We can't
wait, you know."

Mrs. Clinton glanced at the ormolu clock, representing Time with a
scythe and hour-glass, on the mantelpiece, but said nothing. As it began
to chime the door opened and the Rector and Mrs. Beach were announced.

"Grace! Grace!" said the Squire, holding up a warning finger, but
smiling affably. "I've never known you run it so fine before."

"My dear Edward," said Mrs. Beach, with her sweet smile, "Tom broke a
collar stud. It is one of those little accidents that nobody can foresee
and nobody can guard against."

"Except by laying in a stock," said Mrs. Graham.

"Well, my dear Grace, you were just _not_ late," said the Squire, "I
will forgive you."

So they all went in to dinner amicably, and a very good dinner it was,
although there was an entire absence of what the Squire called French
fal-lals. English _versus_ French cooking was a favourite dinner-table
topic of his, and he expatiated on it this evening. "It stands to
reason," he said, "that natural food well cooked--of course it must be
well cooked, before an open range, and so on--is better than made-up
stuff. Now what have we got this evening?" He put on his gold-rimmed
glasses and took up a menu-card. A shade of annoyance passed over his
face when he discovered that it was written in French. "Who wrote this
rubbish?" he asked, looking over his glasses at Mrs. Clinton.

"I did, father," said Cicely, blushing.

"Good for you, Siskin!" broke in Dick. "Very well done. It gives the
entertainment an air."

"I helped with the accents," said Angela.

"Well," said the Squire, "I don't like it. As far as I can make out it's
a purely English dinner, except, perhaps, the soup, and it ought to be
described in English. What's the good of calling roast lamb 'agneau
roti'?" He pronounced it "rotty," with an i