Johnny did not quite follow this last, but it did not matter, the only thing that concerned him—­or Julia much, either—­was the fact that she was the possessor of L50 a year, a cottage, a garden, and a field.  Johnny revelled in the idea and talked of what she was going to do right up to the time that he saw her into the train at Paddington.  The only thing that put an end to his talking was the guard requesting him to stand away from the carriage door and Julia admonished him to leave go of the handle before the engine started.  Julia herself did not talk so much of what she would do because she did not know; she felt, until she got home and saw how things were there, it was no good even to plan how and when to spend.  Five pounds she did spend; it was really her saving accumulated by economy in Holland, but she reckoned it as drawn from her estate.  Johnny found it in an envelope when he returned to the back bedroom, and with it a note to say that it was in part payment of Captain Polkington’s debts, for which, of course, his family were responsible; “and if you make a fuss about it,” the letter concluded, dropping the business-like style, “I shall trim ‘Bouquet’ to stink next time you come to Marbridge, and not come and sit with you.”

I think Johnny sat down and wept over that letter; but then he was rather a silly old man and he had not had a good meal, except last night’s steak and onions, for a fortnight.

CHAPTER XIV

THE END OF THE CAMPAIGN

The great Polkington campaign was over and it had failed.  Mrs. Polkington and Cherie cheered each other with assurances of a contrary nature as long as they could, but for all that it had really failed and they knew it.  There had been some small successes by the way; they had received a little recognition in superior places, and a few, a very few, invitations of a superior order at the cost, of course, of refusing and so offending some old friends and acquaintances.  It might perhaps have been possible to achieve the position at which Mrs. Polkington aimed in the course of time, or a very long time; society in the country moves slowly, and she could not afford to wait indefinitely; her financial ability was not equal to it.  Moreover, there came into her affairs, not exactly a crash, but something so unpleasantly like a full stop that she and Cherie could not fail to perceive it.  This occurred on the day when they heard of Mr. Harding’s engagement.  Mr. Harding was the eligible bachelor addition to county society whose advent had materially assisted in giving definite form to Mrs. Polkington’s ambition.  He had helped to feed it, too, during the late summer and early autumn, for he had been friendly, though Cherie was forced to admit that his attentions to her had not been very marked.  But now the news was abroad that he was engaged to a girl in his own circle; one whose mother had not yet extended any greater recognition to Mrs. Polkington than an invitation to a Primrose League Fete.