were so
impressed with the spirit of the place that they simply could not endure
to do less than their very, very best, and were willing to remain poor
all their lives in order to be able to do it. That's fine! That's
grand! None of your miserable scamping spirit there. The place made
the men, as well as the men the place."

"Yes, yes, that's just what I feel. I'd like to do something for it
too, if it were only the dusting," sighed Mellicent, passing her finger
along a ledge of wood, and pensively regarding the ridge of dust on her
light kid gloves. "I assure you, Peggy, the shivers were running down
my back the whole time of that service like a cold-water tap. I was
freezing!"

"And I was tingling. Oh, to do something big enough--great enough--to
be brought here when I die, and be laid among these fine old heroes!
Isn't it maddening sometimes to be a woman, and feel penned in, in a
wretched little body?" Peggy stood still and faced her companion with
kindling eyes. "At this moment, my dear, the spirit of Hercules is
within me--I feel as if I could lift mountains, and look at _that_."
She held out her hand, staring with intense disfavour at the fragile
little wrist. "That's my weapon! If I tried to lift that _bench_, I
should sprain my wrist. If I work my brain for several hours on end, I
have a sick headache I'm a lion in a cage, dear; a little, miserable,
five-foot cage, and it's no use beating at the bars, for I'll never get
out;" and Peggy stared miserably at the statue of the "third great
Canning" which stood opposite, and sighed her heart out, to think how
impossible it seemed that the name of Mariquita Saville would ever be
emblazoned by his side.

From the Abbey the sightseers drove to the Academy, where they spent a
couple of hours in making their way through the crowded rooms. Mrs
Saville and her daughter were unaffectedly interested in the pictures,
but Mellicent declared the study of them such a "neck-achey" process
that she soon abandoned the effort, and contented herself with
criticising the people instead. After living all one's life in
provincial parishes where every inhabitant recognised and saluted the
vicar's daughter, it was a little bewildering to find oneself surrounded
by hundreds of absolutely strange faces; a trifle depressing too, to
one-and-twenty, to realise afresh her own countrified appearance, as
slim-waisted _elegantes_ floated past in a succession of spring
toilettes,