The elite called to congratulate Mrs. Polkington on her daughter’s engagement.  All manner of pleasant things were said by them and by Mrs. Polkington in an atmosphere of social sunshine.  She thought it so nice of them to come so soon, she told them so severally; she knew that they—­“you all,” “you, at least,” “you, my oldest friend,” according to circumstances—­would be pleased to hear about it.  She gave sundry little hints of future plans and hopes, among other things mentioned that it really was hard for poor Violet to have to go and cheer an invalid cousin just now.

“And the worst of it is,” so Mrs. Polkington said, “she may have to be away some time.  There really seems no one else to go, and one could not leave the poor dear alone at this dull time of the year; and, after all, Bath is not very far off; some of Richard’s people live there, too.  I should not be surprised if the young people contrive to see a good deal of each other in spite of everything.  Indeed, had I not thought so, I think I should have insisted on Cherie’s going instead of Violet, although she would have had to give up her winter abroad.”

Here the visitor usually made polite inquiries about this same winter abroad, and heard of a delightful prospect of several months to be spent in the south of France, unnecessary and unpleasant details all omitted.

“You do agree with me?” Mrs. Polkington would then ask rather anxiously, as if her hearer’s opinion was the one that really mattered to her.  “You do think it wrong to allow Cherie to refuse this invitation for Violet’s sake?  I am very glad you think so.  I had quite a difficulty in persuading her; but, as I told her, it was not a chance she was likely to have again.  So she is going, and Violet will have to spend her winter in Bath.  Julia?  Oh, Julia was not asked in either case; she will be staying at home with me.”

From all of which it is clear that part of Julia’s plan was to be adopted.  The other part must have found favour, too, for soon it became known that the Polkingtons were without a servant.  Mrs. Polkington made inquiries among her friends, but could not hear of any one suitable; she said it was very tiresome, especially as they had taken advantage of the girl’s empty room to invite an old Anglo-Indian friend of her husband’s to stay.

Thus was the difficulty tided over, and with so good a face that few in Marbridge had any idea that it existed.  Certainly none knew of the pinching and screwing and retrenching which went on indoors at No. 27.  One or two tradesmen could have told of long accounts unpaid, and some relations living at a distance were troubled by appeals for help, a form of begging which, at this date of their history did not hurt the Polkingtons’ sensibility much.

Mrs. Polkington suffered in body, if not in mind, during this hard time, though fortunately she was able to be away a month.  The Captain suffered a good deal more, which was perhaps only just; and Johnny Gillat suffered with him, which was not just, though that did not seem to occur to him.  As for Julia, she minded least of any one, though in some ways she had the most to put up with; but the plan was hers, and consequently she was too interested in its success to trouble about the inevitable discomforts of the working out.