welve miles."

"Twelve miles in a good car! What's that? She'll enjoy her tea all the
more for waiting... Couldn't we--?"

Cassandra came a step nearer, her voice sank to the thrilling note in
which of old she had concocted mischief in the schoolroom.

"Listen! ... there's a summer-house near the north gate. It has a
locked cupboard with things for tea. I keep them there for my especial
use... If we ran down this path quickly... before she arrives--"

"We could have tea there together? For goodness' sake, let's fly!"

"But your conscience? The Nonconformist conscience? Are you sure you
could enjoy--?"

"She's your visitor, not mine. I have no scruples. Only give me the
chance!"

"On your head be it!" cried Cassandra, and bending low, darted between
the shrubs towards a winding path which led in the opposite direction
from the house. Peignton followed with eager steps.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE SKIRTS OF CHANCE.

Now that Lent was over dinner parties came on with a rush, started, as
was only discreet, with a state gathering at the Court, when the county
was invited to welcome the bride. The Vicar and his wife were the sole
representatives of Chumley proper, but Dane Peignton was in request, as
an odd man is bound to be in the countryside.

"It will be deadly dull," Cassandra had warned her friend, "but it has
to be done. Brace up, and go through it bravely, and if you don't like
it you need never try again."

"I won't," Grizel said frankly. "A duty is a duty, and has to be done
whether you like it or not, but I choose my pleasures to suit myself.
If I'm amused I'll go,--if I'm not, all the saddles of mutton in the
world won't tempt me. It always amuses me to be with you, my dear, but
judging from the specimens I've already seen, it's a very, very heavy
county. The women are heavy in the afternoon. I tremble to think of
what they must be in the drawing-room after dinner. Could I do anything
to jolt them up? Put on a black gown, or do a little skirt dancing, or
tell stories? I could tell some awakening stories!"

But Cassandra shook her head and issued her orders.

"You are to wear your wedding dress, and behave yourself like a sweet
young bride, and do credit to yourself, and to me, and to your husband's
books! When you go to Rome, do as the Romans do."

When the night of the dinner arrived the sweet young bride repaired to
her husband's dressing-room _en route_ from the bathroom to