The girls gave a party to celebrate the recovery of Cuthbert. They were allowed to do this on one condition, that they made everything for it themselves.

This was Mr. Leighton's idea, and it found rapturous approval in the ranks of the family, and immediate rebellion in the heart of Mrs.

Leighton. It was her one obstinacy that she should retain full hold of the reins of housekeeping. Once let a lot of girls into the kitchen, and where are you?

"Once let a lot of girls grow up with no kind of responsibility in life, and where are you then?" asked Mr. Leighton. "I don't want my girls to drift. No man is really healthy unless he is striving after something, if it's only after finding a new kind of beetle. I don't see how a girl can be healthy without a definite occupation."

"They make their beds, and they have their music," sighed Mrs. Leighton.

"Girls in my day didn't interfere with the housekeeping."

"I've thought about their music," said Mr. Leighton. "I'm glad they have it. But it isn't life, you know. A drawing-room accomplishment isn't life. I want them to be equipped all round. Not just by taking cla.s.ses either. Cla.s.ses end by making people willing to be taught, but the experiences of life make them very swift to learn. We can't have them sitting dreaming about husbands for ever. Dreams and ideals are all very well, but one scamps the realities if one goes on at them too long.

Elma means to marry a duke, you know. Isn't it much better that in the meantime she should learn to make a salad?"

"The servants will be so cross," said Mrs. Leighton. She invariably saw readily enough where she must give in, but on these occasions she never gave in except with outward great unwillingness.

"Oh, perhaps not," said Mr. Leighton. "They have dull enough lives themselves. I'm sure it will be rather fun for them to see Mabel making cakes."

"Mabel can't make cakes," exclaimed Mrs. Leighton. Her professional talents were really being questioned here. Throughout the length and breadth of the country, n.o.body made cakes like Mrs. Leighton.

Mr. Leighton grew a little bit testy.

"You know, my dear, if this house were a business concern it would be your duty to take your eldest daughter into partnership at this stage.

As it is, you seem to want to keep her out for ever."

Mrs. Leighton sighed heavily.

"That's just it, John," said she; "I want to keep her out for ever. I want them all to remain little children, and myself being mother to them. Since Mabel got her hair up--already it's different. I feel in an underhand sort of way that I'm being run by my own daughter--I really do."

"More like by your own son," said Mr. Leighton. "The way you give in to that boy is a disgrace."

"Oh, Cuthbert's different," said Mrs. Leighton brightly.

"Poor Mabel," smiled Mr. Leighton.

It was an old subject with them, thrashed out again and again, ever since Cuthbert as a rather spoiled child of seven had had his little nose put out of joint by the first arrival of girls in the imperious person of Mabel. Mrs. Leighton had always felt a little grieved with the absurdly rapid manner in which Mr. Leighton's affections had gone over to Mabel.

"In any case, try them with the party," said he. "The only thing that can happen is for the cook to give notice."

"And I shall have to get another one, of course." Mrs. Leighton's voice dwelt in a suspiciously marked manner on the p.r.o.noun.

"Now there's another opportunity for making use of Mabel," said her husband.

Mrs. Leighton let her hands fall.

"Engage my own servants! What next?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know," said he. "Cuthbert does heaps of things for me.

You women are the true conservatives. If we had you in power there would be no chance for the country."

"Well, you might have persuaded Cuthbert to succeed you as Chairman of your Company, with a steady income and all that sort of thing," she exclaimed, "instead of rushing him into a profession which keeps him tied night and day, and gives him no return as yet for all his work."

"I should never stand in the way of enthusiasm," said her husband.

"Cuthbert has a real genius for his profession."

"Then why not find a profession for Mabel?"

"I have thought of that. It seems right, however, that a man ought to be equipped for one profession, and a girl for several. I can always leave my girls enough money to keep the wolf from the door at least. I have an objection to any girl being obliged to work entirely for her living. Men ought to relieve them of that at least. But we must give them occupation; work that develops. Come, come, my dear; you must let them have their head a little, even although they ruin the cakes. A good mother makes useless daughters, you know."

"Well, it's a wrench, John."

"There, there," he smiled at her.

"And the servants are sure to give notice."

She regretted much of her pessimism, however, when she gave the news to the girls. Not for a long time had they been so animated. Each took her one department in the supper menu prepared under the guidance of Mrs. Leighton.

First, chicken salad inserted into a tomato, cut into water-lily shape, reposing on lettuce leaves--one on each little plate, mayonnaise dressing on top.

The mayonnaise captured Mabel.

"But you can't make it, it's a most trying thing to do--better let cook make it," interjected Mrs. Leighton.

"What about our party?" asked Mabel.

"Very well," said an abject mother.

So that was settled.

Then fruit salad, immediately claimed by Jean, who knew everything there was to be known of fruit, inside and out, as she explained volubly.

Mrs. Leighton's quiet face twitched a trifle and then resolved itself into business lines once more.

Meringues! they must have meringues! n.o.body seemed to rise to that.

Elma felt it was her turn.

"They look awfully difficult," said she, "but I could try a day or two before. I'll do the meringues."

This cost her a great effort. Mother didn't appear at all encouraging, She snipped her lips together in rather a grim way, and it had the effect of sending a cold streak of fear up and down the back of the meringue volunteer.

"Are they very difficult, mummy?" she asked apologetically.

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Leighton airily. "After mayonnaise, one may do anything."

"I can whip cream--beautifully," explained Elma. "It's that queer crusty thing I'm afraid of."

"I shall be ruined in eggs, I see that very distinctly," said Mrs.

Leighton.

After this, there seemed to be no proper opportunity for Betty.

"Couldn't I make a trifle?" she asked modestly. "A trifle at ten." Mrs.