The Polkingtons were launching out; not ostentatiously with expensive entertainments or anything striking, but in all small ways, scarcely noticeable except in general effect, but none the less expensive.  They could not afford it; the past nine months had been very difficult, first the Captain’s unfortunate misuse of the cheque, then Violet’s engagement and the necessary entertainment that it involved, and then her wedding.  Financially they were in a very bad way, but that did not prevent them spending—­or owing—­in a rather lordly fashion.  Mrs. Polkington with one daughter married, and another safely out of the way, seemed determined to take the field well with the remaining one.  Cherie was quite ready to second the effort, indeed, she was the instigator; she was not only the prettiest of the sisters, but also the most ease loving, and though ambitious, less clever than the others, and a great deal more short-sighted.  She had for some time ceased to be content with the position at Marbridge and the society there; she wanted to be recognised by the “county.”  This desire had been growing of late, for there had been a very eligible and attractive bachelor addition to that charmed circle, and he had more than once looked admiration her way.  She and her mother went to work well and spared neither time nor trouble; not much result could be expected during the summer months, little done then except get ready—­an expensive proceeding.  It was when September brought people home for the partridge shooting and October’s pheasants kept them there till hunting began, that they expected their success and the return for their outlay, and they were quite content to wait for it.

Their plans and doings were naturally not confided to any one, not even Julia; she heard seldom from Marbridge; the family feelings were of a somewhat utilitarian order, based largely on mutual benefit.  She wrote now and then; she happened to do so on the day after the one on which she did not take the blue daffodil; and she mentioned in this letter that it was possible she should be home again soon.  Seeing that she had decided the daffodil was unobtainable she saw little reason for staying longer; this of course she did not mention when she wrote.  Somewhat to her surprise she got an almost immediate reply to her letter.

It would not suit Mrs. Polkington and Cherie to have Julia back soon at all; it is always easier to swim socially with one daughter than two, especially if the second is not good-looking.  Also, Julia, cautious, long-headed and capable, was certain to criticise their proceedings and do her best to interfere with them.  She would be wrong in her judgments, of course, and they right; they were sure of that, but they did not want the trouble of attempting to convert her, and anyhow, they felt they could do much better without her, and Mrs. Polkington wrote and intimated as much politely.  She gave several excellent reasons, all of which were perfectly transparent to Julia, though that did not matter, seeing that she was sufficiently hurt in her feelings, or her pride, to at once determine to fulfil her mother’s wishes and do anything rather than go where she was not wanted.