Mr. Meredith took a large amount of trifle, praising it considerably.

This alarmed Lance more than ever.

"One good thing does not destroy a bad thing," he exclaimed. "The first axiom to be learned in chemistry is that one smell does not kill another. It is a popular delusion that it does. Meredith seems to have been brought up on popular lines."

He posed in front of Cuthbert with his hands in his pockets.

"We are running a great risk," said he. "To-morrow morning Meredith may be saying things about your sisters which may prevent us men from being friends with him--for ever."

Above the general flood of conversation, Aunt Katharine's treble voice might now be heard.

"Mabel," she said in a kind manner, "I must compliment you. When your mother told me about this ridiculous party, I told her she was spoiling you as she always does. In my young days we weren't allowed to be extravagant and experiment in cooking whenever a party occurred. We began with the 'common round, the daily task.'" Aunt Katharine sighed heavily. "But I never knew you could make a trifle like this."

Mabel had been sitting like the others, trying to subdue the merriment which Aunt Katharine's long speeches usually aroused. The wind-up to this tirade alarmed her however. She would have to tell them all, with Mr. Meredith standing there, that the trifle was not her trifle. She would have to say that it was Betty's.

Before she could open her mouth however, the whole loyal regiment of Leightons had forestalled her.

"Isn't it a jolly trifle!" they exclaimed. Mabel could even hear Betty's little pipe joining in.

"Oh, but I must tell you," she began.

Cuthbert appeared at the doorway.

"Drawing-room cleared for dancing," said he. "Come along."

That finished it, and the girls were delighted with themselves. But one little melancholy thing, for all her partisanship, disturbed Jean considerably. Mr. Meredith, on giving his arm to Mabel for the first dance, was heard distinctly to remark, "You make all these delicious things as well as play piano! How clever of you."

And Mabel looking perfectly possessed floated round to the first waltz as though she had not made a complete muddle of the walnut cake.

Jean did not regret their generosity, but she was saddened by it.

"It all comes of being the eldest," she confided to Maud, "We may stand on our heads now if we like, but if anything distinguished happens in the family, Mabel will get the credit of it."

CHAPTER IX

At Miss Grace's

Miss Grace sat crocheting in her white and gold drawing-room and Elma played to her. Then the front door bell rang.

"Oh please, Miss Grace," said Elma with crimson cheeks, "that is Adelaide Maud."

"She isn't coming, I hope, to disturb our afternoons, and your playing,"

asked Miss Grace anxiously.

"Oh, Miss Grace, she has eyes like yours and listens most interrogatively," said Elma in the greatest alarm. The fear that Miss Grace might be offended only now a.s.sailed her.

"Intelligently, dear," corrected Miss Grace.

"I never did truly think she would come," said Elma.

"Then, dear, it was not very polite to invite her." Miss Grace could not bear that Elma should miss any point in her own gentle code of etiquette.

"In justice to little Elma, I invited myself." The full-throated tones of Miss Dudgeon's voice came to them from the door. "And what is more, I said to Saunders, 'Let me surprise Miss Grace, I do not want to disturb the music.'"

"And then of course the music stopped," said Miss Grace.

She kissed Adelaide Maud in a very friendly way.

"Oh, but it will go on again at once, if neither of you are offended,"

said Elma. She was much relieved.

"You must not be so afraid of offending people," said Miss Grace. "It is a great fault of yours, dear."

As Adelaide Maud bent to kiss her, Elma was struck with the justice of this criticism.

"I believe I might be as fascinating as Mabel if only I weren't afraid,"

she thought to herself. The reflection made her play in a minor key.

"Just let me say a few words to Miss Grace," had said Adelaide Maud.

"Play on and don't mind us for a bit."

Adelaide Maud spoke to Miss Grace in an undertone. Elma thought they did it to let her feel at ease, and correspondingly played quite happily.

"I have seen Dr. Merryweather," said Adelaide Maud to Miss Grace. "He says you must go off for a change at once."

"Dr. Merryweather!"

Miss Grace turned very pale.

"Exactly. I did it on my own responsibility. He was most concerned about you. He said that what Dr. Smith had ordered you ought to carry out."

"He was always very hard on Annie," said Miss Grace, who saw only one side to such a proposal.

Adelaide Maud bent her head a trifle.

"You ought not to think of Miss Annie, at present," said she. "It isn't right. It isn't fair to her either, supposing you turn really ill, what would become of her?"

Neither noticed the lagging notes on the piano. Instead, in the earnestness of their conversation, they entirely forgot Elma.

Miss Grace shook her head.

"I can't help it," she said. "Whatever happens to me, I must stay by my bed-ridden sister. Who would look after her if I deserted her? What is my poor well-being compared to hers!"

The notes on the piano fell completely away. Elma sat with the tears raining down her face.