This morning, however, when she got up, she found herself more tired than she ever remembered being before, and it may be easily argued that a woman who runs about London on other people’s errands often knows what it is to be aware of aching limbs.  She laughed a little when she discovered that her feet were actually rather swollen, and that she must wear a pair of her easiest slippers.  “I must sit down as much as I can to-day,” she thought.  “And yet, with the dinner-party and the excursion this morning, there may be a number of little things Lady Maria would like me to do.”

There were, indeed, numbers of things Lady Maria was extremely glad to ask her to do.  The drive to the ruins was to be made before lunch, because some of the guests felt that an afternoon jaunt would leave them rather fagged for the dinner-party in the evening.  Lady Maria was not going, and, as presently became apparent, the carriages would be rather crowded if Miss Fox-Seton joined the party.  On the whole, Emily was not sorry to have an excuse for remaining at home, and so the carriages drove away comfortably filled, and Lady Maria and Miss Fox-Seton watched their departure.

“I have no intention of having my venerable bones rattled over hill and dale the day I give a dinner-party,” said her ladyship.  “Please ring the bell, Emily.  I want to make sure of the fish.  Fish is one of the problems of country life.  Fishmongers are demons, and when they live five miles from one they can arouse the most powerful human emotions.”

Mallowe Court was at a distance from the country town delightful in its effects upon the rusticity of the neighbourhood, but appalling when considered in connection with fish.  One could not dine Without fish; the town was small and barren of resources, and the one fishmonger of weak mind and unreliable nature.

The footman who obeyed the summons of the bell informed her ladyship that the cook was rather anxious about the fish, as usual.  The fishmonger had been a little doubtful as to whether he could supply her needs, and his cart never arrived until half-past twelve.

“Great goodness!” exclaimed her ladyship when the man retired.  “What a situation if we found ourselves without fish!  Old General Barnes is the most ferocious old gourmand in England, and he loathes people who give him bad dinners.  We are all rather afraid of him, the fact is, and I will own that I am vain about my dinners.  That is the last charm nature leaves a woman, the power to give decent dinners.  I shall be fearfully annoyed if any ridiculous thing happens.”

They sat in the morning-room together writing notes and talking, and as half-past twelve drew near, watching for the fishmonger’s cart.  Once or twice Lady Maria spoke of Lord Walderhurst.