Dear Lady Dunstable,--We have much pleasure in accepting your kind
invitation, and I will let you know our train later. I have no maid,
so--

But at this point Mrs. Meadows, struck by a sudden idea, threw down her
pen.

"Heavens!--suppose I took Jane? Somebody told me the other day that
nobody got any attention at Crosby Ledgers without a maid. And it might
bribe Jane into staying. I should feel a horrid snob--but it would be
rather fun--especially as Lady Dunstable will certainly be immensely
surprised. The fare would be only about five shillings--Jane would get
her food for two days at the Dunstables' expense--and I should have a
friend. I'll do it."

So, with her eyes dancing, Doris tore up her note, and began again:

Dear Lady Dunstable,--We have much pleasure in accepting your kind
invitation, and I will let you know our train later. As you kindly
permit me, I will bring a maid.

Yours sincerely,
DORIS MEADOWS.

* * * * *

The month which elapsed between Lady Dunstable's invitation and the
Crosby Ledgers party was spent by Doris first in "doing up" her frock,
and then in taking the bloom off it at various dinner-parties to which
they were already invited as the "celebrities" of the moment; in making
Arthur's wardrobe presentable; in watching over the tickets and receipts
of the weekly lectures; in collecting the press cuttings about them; in
finishing her illustrations; and in instructing the awe-struck Jane, now
perfectly amenable, in the mysteries that would be expected of her.

Meanwhile Mrs. Meadows heard various accounts from artistic and literary
friends of the parties at Crosby Ledgers. These accounts were generally
prefaced by the laughing remark, "But anything _I_ can say is ancient
history. Lady Dunstable dropped us long ago!"

Anyway, it appeared that the mistress of Crosby Ledgers could be
charming, and could also be exactly the reverse. She was a creature of
whims and did precisely as she pleased. Everything she did apparently
was acceptable to Lord Dunstable, who admired her blindly. But in one
point at least she was a disappointed woman. Her son, an unsatisfactory
youth of two-and-twenty, was seldom to be seen under his parents' roof,
and it was rumoured that he had already given them a great deal of
trouble.

"The dreadful thing, my dear, is the _games_ they play!" said the