t be so
busy, pinning bits of drapery over your doors, and heaping flowers into
enormous vases. Can I come in and help? I am splendid at decorations,
you know," remembering Giddy's cynical remarks on her artistic efforts,
and laughing merrily.

"No, dear, all is prepared," speaking in funeral tones. "_But_----"

"Well?"

Giddy's eyes shift uneasily. Then she speaks straight out: "I can't
have your people! My dear child, it would be madness--positive
madness, both to yourself and to me. There, there, don't look so
blank; one would think I had suggested murdering good Mrs. Grebby and
her dear fat husband. Can't you see it, Eleanor? You have a good
position in Richmond, and you want to take it and fling it into the
river, as it were. You want to flaunt your parentage at my party
before everyone."

"Yes," says Eleanor firmly; "I am not ashamed of them, it is not in me
to be ashamed. What is wrong with them?"

Giddy's mouth curves, her little foot taps impatiently on the floor at
Eleanor's defiant attitude.

"You _must_ see, or are you utterly blind--utterly imbecile? Now,
child, take my warning--shunt the old people at once--trundle them off
the London junction--send them puffing back in a slow train to the
country--tell them never to enter Lyndhurst again--keep them out of
Richmond. It was terrible yesterday--a scene I shall never forget.
Lady MacDonald was so sweet over it, though I could see she was
petrified."

"I don't understand you," mutters Eleanor, pale and trembling. "If you
have come here to insult me----"

"Tut, tut! Don't be silly. But I am bitterly disappointed in you. I
have taken so much pains over your social education. But you are like
a girl in iron stays, the moment you remove the support (which is my
guiding hand) you go flop! Now don't turn rusty, or cry," as tears of
passion well into Eleanor's eyes. "I want you at my party--I want
youth and beauty, for I have a reputation for producing lovely women,
good-looking men, and distractingly sweet girls. Carol has promised to
come early; now, for one, you would not like him to see your relations."

"Yes, I should," she replies. "He would not mind, _he_ is a gentleman!"

"I cannot have them, anyhow," declares Giddy firmly. "You may be
offended, for I have spoken plainly----"

"A great deal too plainly," retorts Eleanor fiercely. "You have not
spared my feelings. You think yourself very grand, but my parents
would not ha