“A few shillings will do.  Let us pack up a picnic basket.  Kate, you needn’t look at me.  I have taken Mrs. Masters into confidence, and there’s a cold roast fowl downstairs—­and—­and—­but I won’t reveal anything further.  We can have a picnic—­we can go away an hour after breakfast, and saunter to that place known as the Long Quay, and hire the very best boat to be had for money, and we can float about on this lovely harbor, and land presently on the shore over there where the ruins of the old Port are; and we can eat our dinners there and be jolly.  Remember that we have never but once been on the water since we came.  Think how we have pined for this simple pleasure, Loftie, and fork out the tin.”

“My dear Mabel, I must place my interdict on slang.”

“Nonsense.  When the cat’s away.  Oh, don’t look shocked!  Are we to go?”

“Go! of course we’ll go.  Is there no pretty girl who’ll come with us?  It’s rather slow to have only one’s sisters.”

“Very well, Loftus.  We’ll pay you out presently,” said Kate.

“And there is a very pretty girl,” continued Mabel, “At least Catherine considers her very pretty—­only—­” her eyes danced with mischief.

“Only what?”

“The mother doesn’t like her.  There’s a dear old Rector here, and he introduced the girl to Kitty, and mother was wild.  Mother sounded the Rector the next day and heard something which made her wilder still, but we are not in the secret.  Kate fell in love with the girl.”

“Did you, Kate?  When a woman falls in love with another woman the phenomenon is so uncommon that a certain amount of interest must be roused.  Describe the object of your adoration, Kitty.”

“Her name,” responded Kate, “is Beatrice Meadowsweet.  I won’t say any more about her.  If ever you meet her, which isn’t likely, you can judge for yourself of her merits.”

“Kitty is rather cross about Beatrice,” said Mabel; then she continued, “Loftie, what do you think?  Mother has cut all the Northbury folk.”

“Mabel, you talk very wild nonsense.”

It was Kate who spoke.  She rose from the breakfast-table with an annoyed expression.

“Wild or not—­it is true,” replied Mabel.  “Mother has cut the Northbury people, cut them dead.  They came to see us, they came in troops.  Such funny folk!  The first lot were let in.  Mother was like a poker.  She astonished her visitors, and the whole scene was so queer and uncomfortable, although mother was freezingly polite, that Kate and I got out of the room.  The next day more people came—­and more, and more every day, but Clara had her orders, and we weren’t ‘at home.’  Kitty and I used to watch the poor Northburians from behind the summer-house.  One day Kitty laughed.  It was awful, and I am sure they heard.

“Another day a dreadful little woman with rolling eyes said she would leave a tract on Lying in the avenue—­I wish she had.  But I suppose she thought better of it.