know, a man like Dick isn't supposed to have to do that sort of thing."

Muriel laughed; and Cicely, who had recovered her good humour, laughed
too. "Of course, it wasn't anything to fuss about, really," she said,
"but you see what I mean, Muriel, don't you?"

"No, I don't," said Muriel, "unless you mean exactly what I said just
now, and you bit my head off for. Mr. Clinton is what some people call a
swell, and Dick is a swell too. The Grahams aren't swells, and the
Birkets aren't either. And if you want it quite straight, my dear,
neither you nor I are swells; we're only what they call county."

"You're so sensible, Muriel darling!" said Cicely.

"And you've had your head turned, Cicely darling!" retorted Muriel. "You
have been taken up by your great relations, and you have come back to
your simple home discontented."

"It's all very well, though," said Cicely, becoming serious again, "but
I'm a Clinton just as much as the boys are, and just as much as you are
a Graham. You say the Grahams are not swells--you do use horrible
language, Muriel dear--but I suppose Lord Conroy is, and so, according
to your argument, you ought to be."

"Uncle Blobs isn't a swell--he's only a farmer with a title."

"Oh! then I don't know what you mean by a swell."

"Well, of course the Conroys _are_ swells in a way, but they don't care
about swelling. If mother had liked--and father had let her--she could
have been a fashionable lady, and dear Muriel could have been a
fashionable girl, with her picture in the illustrated papers, sitting in
front of a lattice window with a sweet white frock and a bunch of
lilies. 'We give this week a charming photograph of Miss Muriel Graham,
the only daughter of the Honourable Mrs. Graham. Mrs. Graham is a
daughter of' and so on. As it is, dear Muriel is just the daughter of a
country squire."

"That is all dear Cicely is, though you said just now that father was a
swell. I don't see, really, that he is much more of a swell than Mr.
Graham was--here."

"No--he isn't--here. That's just it. That is what you are running your
head against, my dear. Perhaps he isn't really a swell at all, now. But
he could be if he liked, and he was when he was young. It is because he
likes being a country squire best that you have got to put up with being
a country squire's daughter. I'm sorry for you, as you seem to feel it
so much, but I'm afraid there's no help for it. I don't think, really,
you have much to grum