pleasure of drinking wine with Mrs. Jones and Miss Smith--with all the
Joneses and all the Smiths! These latter-day habits are certainly more
economical.

Miss Thorne, however, boldly attempted to leave the modern, beaten
track, and made a positive effort to entertain her guests. Alas! She
did so with but moderate success. They had all their own way of going,
and would not go her way. She piped to them, but they would not dance.
She offered to them good, honest household cake made of currants and
flour and eggs and sweetmeat, but they would feed themselves on trashy
wafers from the shop of the Barchester pastry-cook, on chalk and gum
and adulterated sugar. Poor Miss Thorne! Yours is not the first honest
soul that has vainly striven to recall the glories of happy days
gone by! If fashion suggests to a Lady De Courcy that, when invited
to a _dejeuner_ at twelve she ought to come at three, no eloquence
of thine will teach her the advantage of a nearer approach to
punctuality.

She had fondly thought that when she called on her friends to come at
twelve, and specially begged them to believe that she meant it, she
would be able to see them comfortably seated in their tents at two.
Vain woman--or rather ignorant woman--ignorant of the advances of
that civilization which the world had witnessed while she was growing
old. At twelve she found herself alone, dressed in all the glory of
the newest of her many suits of raiment--with strong shoes however,
and a serviceable bonnet on her head, and a warm, rich shawl on her
shoulders. Thus clad, she peered out into the tent, went to the
ha-ha, and satisfied herself that at any rate the youngsters were
amusing themselves, spoke a word to Mrs. Greenacre over the ditch,
and took one look at the quintain. Three or four young farmers were
turning the machine round and round and poking at the bag of flour
in a manner not at all intended by the inventor of the game; but no
mounted sportsmen were there. Miss Thorne looked at her watch. It was
only fifteen minutes past twelve, and it was understood that Harry
Greenacre was not to begin till the half-hour.

Miss Thorne returned to her drawing-room rather quicker than was her
wont, fearing that the countess might come and find none to welcome
her. She need not have hurried, for no one was there. At half-past
twelve she peeped into the kitchen; at a quarter to one she was
joined by her brother; and just then the first fashionable arrival
to