schools, had seemed to her not quite as regretful as it might have been;
his epistolary style lacked charm. And it was impertinent of him to
suggest Lord Meyrick as a substitute. She had given the Lathom Woods a
wide berth ever since her first adventure there; and she hoped that Lord
Meyrick had spent some disappointed hours in those mossy rides.

All the same it looked as though she were going to see a good deal of
Douglas Falloden. She raised her eyes suddenly.

"Annette, I didn't tell you I'd heard from two of my aunts to-day!"

"You did!" Annette dropped her knitting of her own accord this time, and
sat open-mouthed.

"Two long letters. Funny, isn't it? Well, Aunt Langmoor wants me to go
to her directly--in time anyway for a ball at Tamworth House--horribly
smart--Prince and Princess coming--everybody begging for tickets. She's
actually got an invitation for me--I suppose by asking for it!--rather
calm of her. She calls me 'Dearest Connie.' And I never saw her! But
papa used to be fond of her, and she was never rude to mamma. What
shall I say?"

"Well, I think you'd much better go," said Annette decidedly. "You've
never worn that dress you got at Nice, and it'll be a dish-cloth if you
keep it much longer. The way we have to crush things in this place!"

And she looked angrily even at the capacious new wardrobe which took up
one whole side of the room.

"All right!" laughed Constance. "Then I'll accept Aunt Langmoor, because
you can't find any room for my best frock. It's a toss up. That settles
it. Well, but now for Aunt Marcia--"

She drew a letter from the pages of her French book, and opened it.

* * * * *

"My dear Constance"--so it ran--"I should like to make your
acquaintance, and I hear that you are at Oxford with your uncle. I would
come and see you but that I never leave home. Oxford, too, depresses me
dreadfully. Why should people learn such a lot of useless things? We are
being ruined by all this education. However, what I meant to say was
that Winifred and I would be glad to see you here if you care to come.
Winifred, by the way, is quite aware that she behaved like a fool
twenty-two years ago. But as you weren't born then, we suggest it
shouldn't matter. We have all done foolish things. I, for instance,
invented a dress--a kind of bloomer thing--only it wasn't a bloomer. I
took a shop for it in Bond Street, and it nearly ruined me. But I
muddled through--that'