“Hullo!—­here’s one you haven’t opened.  Another coronet!  Gracious!  I believe it’s the woman who asked us to dinner a fortnight ago, and we couldn’t go.”

Meadows sat up with a jerk, all languor dispelled, and held out his hand for the letter.

“Lady Dunstable!  By George!  I thought she’d ask us,—­though you don’t deserve it, Doris, for you didn’t take any trouble at all about her first invitation—­”

“We were engaged!” cried Doris, interrupting him, her eyebrows mounting.

“We could have got out of it perfectly.  But now, listen to this: 

“Dear Mr. Meadows,—­I hope your wife will excuse my writing to you instead of to her, as you and I are already acquainted.  Can I induce you both to come to Crosby Ledgers for a week-end, on July 16?  We hope to have a pleasant party, a diplomat or two, the Home Secretary, and General Hichen—­perhaps some others.  You would, I am sure, admire our hill country, and I should like to show you some of the precious autographs we have inherited.

                              “Yours sincerely,
                                   “Rachel Dunstable.

    “If your wife brings a maid, perhaps she will kindly let me know.”

Doris laughed, and the amused scorn of her laugh annoyed her husband.  However, at that moment their small house-parlourmaid entered with the tea-tray, and Doris rose to make a place for it.  The parlourmaid put it down with much unnecessary noise, and Doris, looking at her in alarm, saw that her expression was sulky and her eyes red.  When the girl had departed, Mrs. Meadows said with resignation—­

“There! that one will give me notice to-morrow!”

“Well, I’m sure you could easily get a better!” said her husband sharply.

Doris shook her head.

“The fourth in six months!” she said, sighing.  “And she really is a good girl.”

“I suppose, as usual, she complains of me!” The voice was that of an injured man.

“Yes, dear, she does!  They all do.  You give them a lot of extra work already, and all these things you have been buying lately—­oh, Arthur, if you wouldn’t buy things!—­mean more work.  You know that copper coal-scuttle you sent in yesterday?”

“Well, isn’t it a beauty?—­a real Georgian piece!” cried Meadows, indignantly.

“I dare say it is.  But it has to be cleaned.  When it arrived Jane came to see me in this room, shut the door, and put her back against it ‘There’s another of them beastly copper coal-scuttles come!’ You should have seen her eyes blazing.  ’And I should like to know, ma’am, who’s going to clean it—­’cos I can’t.’  And I just had to promise her it might go dirty.”

“Lazy minx!” said Meadows, good-humouredly, with his mouth full of tea-cake.  “At last I have something good to look at in this room.”  He turned his eyes caressingly towards the new coal-scuttle.  “I suppose I shall have to clean it myself!”