paper, a blue Morris carpet, and white
enamelled woodwork had brought it into some grudging semblance of
welcoming a visitor. The more cultured ladies of Melbury Park in
discussing it had called it "artistic, but slightly _bizarre_," a phrase
which was intended to combine a guarded appreciation of novelty with a
more solid preference for sanitary wallpaper, figured oilcloth and paint
of what they called "dull art colours."

"Look at my callers," said Muriel, indicating a china bowl on a narrow
mahogany table that was full to the brim with visiting cards. "I can
assure you I'm the person to know here. No sniffing at a doctor's wife
in Melbury Park, Dick."

"By Jove!" said Dick. "You're getting into society."

"My dear Dick, don't I tell you, I _am_ society. Oh, good gracious, I
was forgetting. Walter told me to send a telegram to Kencote the very
moment you came. Mr. Clinton wired at eight o'clock this morning and
it's half-past twelve now."

Cicely turned away, and Dick became serious again. "Where's the wire?"
he asked. "I'll answer it."

"Come into Walter's room," said Muriel, "there are forms there."

"I wonder he hasn't wired again," said Dick, and as he spoke a telegraph
boy came up to the open door.

"Cannot understand why no reply to telegram. Excessively annoyed.
Wire at once.--Edward Clinton," ran the Squire's second message,
and his first, which Muriel handed to Dick: "Is Cicely with you.
Most annoyed. Wire immediately.--Edward Clinton."

"I'll soothe him," said Dick, and he wrote, "Cicely here. Wanted change.
Is writing. Walter's reply must have miscarried.--Dick." "Another lie,"
he said composedly.

"I want some clothes sent, please, Dick," said Cicely in a constrained
voice.

"Better tell 'em to send Miles up," said Dick, considering.

"No, I don't want Miles," said Cicely, and Dick added, "Please tell
Miles send Cicely clothes for week this afternoon."

"I suppose you can put her up for a week, Muriel," he said.

"I'll put her up for a month, if she'll stay," said Muriel, putting her
arm into Cicely's, and the amended telegram was despatched.

"Now come and see my drawing-room," said Muriel, "and then you can look
after yourself, Dick, till Walter comes home, and I will take Cicely to
her room."

The drawing-room opened on to a garden, wonderfully green and shady
considering where it was. The white walls and the chintz-covered chairs
and sofa had again struck the cul