’Certainly not, ridiculous little puss, except to steer as clear of her as possible for fear she should be taking her observations.  “Bide as we be”; why, ’tis the best we can do.  She can’t pick a hole in your mother though, Bess.  It would have been hard to have forgiven her that!  You’re not such an aged spinster.’

‘It is very funny, though,’ said Bessie; ’just enough exaggeration to give it point!  Here is her interview with James Hodd.’

Whereat the Admiral could not help laughing heartily, and then he picked himself out as the general, laughed again, and said:  ’Naughty girl!  Bess, I’m glad that is not your line.  Little tracts—­Goody Two-Shoes!  Why, what did that paper say of your essay, Miss Bess?  That it might stand a comparison with Helps, wasn’t it?’

’And I wish I was likely to enjoy such lasting fame as Goody Two-Shoes,’ laughed Bessie, in a state of secret exultation at this bit of testimony from her father.

Mrs. Merrifield, though unscathed, was much more hurt and annoyed than either her husband or her daughter, especially at Susan and Bessie being termed old maids.  She DID think it very ungrateful, and wondered how Mrs. Arthuret could have suffered such a thing to be done.  Only the poor woman was quite foolish about her daughter—­ could have had no more authority than a cat.  ’So much for modern education.’

But it was not pleasant to see the numbers of the magazine on the counters at Bonchamp, and to know there were extracts in the local papers, and still less to be indignantly condoled with by neighbours who expressed their intention of ‘cutting’ the impertinent girl.  They were exactly the ‘old fogies’ Arthurine cared for the least, yet whose acquaintance was the most creditable, and the home party at Stokesley were unanimous in entreating others to ignore the whole and treat the newcomers as if nothing had happened.

They themselves shook hands, and exchanged casual remarks as if nothing were amiss, nor was the subject mentioned, except that Mrs. Arthuret contrived to get a private interview with Mrs. Merrifield.

’Oh! dear Mrs. Merrifield, I am so grieved, and so is Arthurine.  We were told that the Admiral was so excessively angry, and he is so kind.  I could not bear for him to think Arthurine meant anything personal.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mrs. Merrifield, rather astonished.

‘But is he so very angry?—­for it is all a mistake.’

‘He laughs, and so does Bessie,’ said the mother.

’Laughs!  Does he?  But I do assure you Arthurine never meant any place in particular; she only intended to describe the way things go on in country districts, don’t you understand?  She was talking one day at the Myttons, and they were all so much amused that they wanted her to write it down.  She read it one evening when they were with us, and they declared it was too good not to be published—­and almost before she knew it, Fred Mytton’s literary friend got hold of it and took it to the agency of this paper.  But indeed, indeed, she never thought of its being considered personal, and is as vexed as possible at the way in which it has been taken up.  She has every feeling about your kindness to us, and she was so shocked when Pansy Mytton told us that the Admiral was furious.’