‘There,’ said Mary, as the door closed behind the rustling muslins of the ladies.  ’There, I have made an enemy for ever, perhaps two; that’s satisfactory.’

’And why have you done it, Mary?  When I am fighting your battles behind your back, why do you come and upset it all by making the whole family of the De Courcys dislike you?  In such a matter as that, they’ll all go together.’

‘I am sure they will,’ said Mary; ’whether they would be equally unanimous in a case of love and charity, that, indeed, is another question.’

’But why should you try to make my cousin angry; you that ought to have so much sense?  Don’t you remember that you were saying yourself the other day, of the absurdity of combatting pretences which the world sanctions?’

’I do, Trichy, I do; don’t scold me now.  It is so much easier to preach than to practise.  I do so wish I was a clergyman.’

‘But you have done so much harm, Mary.’

‘Have I?’ said Mary, kneeling down on the ground at her friend’s feet.  ’If I humble myself very low; if I kneel through the whole evening in a corner; if I put my neck down and let all your cousins trample on it, and then your aunt, would not that make atonement?  I would not object to wearing sackcloth, either; and I’d eat a little ashes—­or, at any rate, I’d try.’

’I know you’re clever, Mary; but still I think you’re a fool.  I do, indeed.’

’I am a fool, Trichy, I do confess it; and am not a bit clever; but don’t scold me; you see how humble I am; not only humble but umble, which I look upon to be the comparative, or, indeed, superlative degree.  Or perhaps there are four degrees; humble, umble, stumble, tumble; and then, when one is absolutely in the dirt at their feet, perhaps these big people won’t wish one to stoop any further.’

‘Oh, Mary!’

’And, oh, Trichy! you don’t mean to say I mayn’t speak out before you.  There, perhaps you’d like to put your foot on my neck.’  And then she put her head down to the footstool and kissed Beatrice’s feet.

’I’d like, if I dared, to put my hand on your cheek and give you a good slap for being such a goose.’

’Do; do, Trichy:  you shall tread on me, or slap me, or kiss me; whichever you like.’

‘I can’t tell you how vexed I am,’ said Beatrice; ’I wanted to arrange something.’

’Arrange something!  What? arrange what?  I love arranging.  I fancy myself qualified to be an arranger-general in female matters.  I mean pots and pans, and such like.  Of course I don’t allude to extraordinary people and extraordinary circumstances that require tact, and delicacy, and drawbacks, and that sort of thing.’

‘Very well, Mary.’

’But it’s not very well; it’s very bad if you look like that.  Well, my pet, there I won’t.  I won’t allude to the noble blood of your noble relatives either in joke or in earnest.  What is it you want to arrange, Trichy?’