Martha shook her head, but at last she did write a note in the mothers name. “My girls are having a little dance, to welcome a friend from London, and they would feel so much obliged if your young ladies would come. Mrs. Butler Cornbury has been kind enough to say that she would join us, etc., etc., etc.” Mrs. Tappitt and Augusta were in a seventh heaven of happiness when Mrs. Fawcett wrote to say that three of her girls would be delighted to accept the invitation; and even the discreet Martha and the less ambitious Cherry were well pleased.
“I declare I think we’ve been very fortunate,” said Mrs. Tappitt.
“Only the Miss Fawcetts will get all the best partners,” said Cherry.
“I’m not so sure of that,” said Augusta, holding up her head.
But there had been yet another trouble. It was difficult for them to get people proper to meet Mrs. Butler Cornbury; but what must they do as to those people who must come and who were by no means proper to meet her? There were the Griggses for instance, who lived out of town in a wonderfully red brick house, the family of a retired Baslehurst grocer. They had been asked before Mrs. Cornbury’s call had been made, or, I fear, their chance of coming to the party would have been small. There was one young Griggs, a man very terrible in his vulgarity, loud, rampant, conspicuous with villainous jewellery, and odious with the worst abominations of perfumery. He was loathsome even to the Tappitt girls; but then the Griggses and the Tappitts had known each other for half a century, and among their ordinary acquaintances Adolphus Griggs might have been endured. But what should they do when he asked to be introduced to Josceline Fawcett? Of all men he was the most unconscious of his own defects. He had once shown some symptoms of admiration for Cherry, by whom he was hated with an intensity of dislike that had amounted to a passion. She had begged that he might be omitted from the list; but Mrs. Tappitt had been afraid of angering their father.
The Rules also would be much in the way. Old Joshua Rule was a maltster, living in Cawston, and his wife and daughter had been asked before the accession of the Butler Cornbury dignity. Old Rule had supplied the brewery with malt almost ever since it had been a brewery; and no more harmless people than Mrs. Rule and her daughter existed in the neighbourhood;—but they were close neighbours of the Comforts, of Mrs. Cornbury’s father and mother, and Mr. Comfort would have as soon asked his sexton to dine with him as the Rules. The Rules never expected such a thing, and therefore lived on very good terms with the clergyman. “I’m afraid she won’t like meeting Mrs. Rule,” Augusta had said to her mother; and then the mother had shaken her head.
Early in the week, before Rachel had accepted the invitation, Cherry had written to her friend. “Of course you’ll come,” Cherry had said; “and as you may have some difficulty in getting here and home again, I’ll ask old Mrs. Rule to call for you. I know she’ll have a place in the fly, and she’s very good-natured.” In answer to this Rachel had written a separate note to Cherry, telling her friend in the least boastful words which she could use that provision had been already made for her coming and going. “Mamma was up at Mr. Comfort’s yesterday,” Rachel wrote, “and he was so kind as to say that Mrs. Butler Cornbury would take me and bring me back. I am very much obliged to you all the same, and to Mrs. Rule.”
“What do you think?” said Cherry, who had received her note in the midst of one of the family conferences; “Augusta said that Mrs. Butler Cornbury would not like to meet Rachel Ray; but she is going to bring her in her own carriage.”
“I never said anything of the kind,” said Augusta.
“Oh, but you did, Augusta; or mamma did, or somebody. How nice for Rachel to be chaperoned by Mrs. Butler Cornbury!”
“I wonder what she’ll wear,” said Mrs. Tappitt, who had on that morning achieved her victory over the wounded brewer in the matter of the three dresses.
On the Friday morning Mrs. Rowan came with her daughter, Luke having met them at Exeter on the Thursday. Mrs. Rowan was a somewhat stately lady, slow in her movements and careful in her speech, so that the girls were at first very glad that they had valiantly worked up their finery before her coming. But Mary was by no means stately; she was younger than them, very willing to be pleased, with pleasant round eager eyes, and a kindly voice. Before she had been three hours in the house Cherry had claimed Mary for her own, had told her all about the party, all about the dresses, all about Mrs. Butler Cornbury and the Miss Fawcetts, and a word or two also about Rachel Ray. “I can tell you somebody that’s almost in love with her.” “You don’t mean Luke?” said Mary. “Yes, but I do,” said Cherry; “but of course I’m only in fun.” On the Saturday Mary was hard at work herself assisting in the decoration of the drawing-room, and before the all-important Tuesday came even Mrs. Rowan and Mrs. Tappitt were confidential. Mrs. Rowan perceived at once that Mrs. Tappitt was provincial—as she told her son, but she was a good motherly woman, and on the whole, Mrs. Rowan condescended to be gracious to her.
At Bragg’s End the preparations for the party required almost as much thought as did those at the brewery, and involved perhaps deeper care. It may be remembered that Mrs. Prime, when her ears
