ired and happy, and fell asleep behind your
father's broad back...."

"Oh, Mother, don't cry. It's beastly of me to discourage you when you've
been the best of mothers to me. I wish I had known my father better, and
I do wish I could remember when we were all happy in the little house.
You've never been so very happy in The Towers, have you, Mother?"

"No, but I wouldn't leave it for the world. Your father was so proud of
it. 'It's as like a hydro as a private house can be,' he often said, in
such a contented voice. He just liked to walk round and look at all the
contrivances he had planned, all the hot-rails and things in the
bathrooms and cloakrooms, and radiators in every room, and the wonderful
pantries--'tippy,' he called them. He couldn't understand people making
a fuss about old houses, and old furniture, grey walls half tumbling
down and mouldy rooms. He liked the new look of The Towers, and he said
to me, 'Mind, Aggie, I'm not going to let you grow any nonsense like ivy
or creepers up this fine new house. They're all very well for holding
together tumbledown old places, but The Towers doesn't need them. And
I'm sure he would be pleased to-day if he saw it. The times people have
advised me to grow ivy--even Lady Tweedie, the last time she came to
tea--but I never would. It's as new-looking as the day he left it....
You don't want to leave The Towers, Muriel?"

"No--o, but--don't you think, Mother, we needn't work quite so hard for
our social existence? I mean, let's be more friendly with the people
round us, and not strive so hard to keep in with the County set. If Miss
Reston can do it, surely we can."

"But don't you see," her mother said, "Miss Reston can do it just
because she is Miss Reston. If you're a Lord's daughter you can be as
eccentric as you like, and make friends with anyone you choose. If we
did it, they would just say, 'Oh, so they've come off their perch!' and
once we let ourselves down we would never raise ourselves again. I
couldn't do it, Muriel. Don't ask me."

"No. But we've got to be happier somehow. Climbing is exhausting work."
She stooped and picked up the two small dogs that lay on a cushion
beside her. "Isn't it, Bing? Isn't it, Toutou? You're happy, aren't you?
A warm fire and a cushion and some mutton-chop bones are good enough for
you. Well, we've got all these and we want more.... Mother, perhaps Jean
would tell us the secret of happiness."

"As if I'd ask her," said Mrs. Du