But this apprehension of Mr. Piper’s was in no manner realized. Bella sent her family ceremonious invitations to her second best parties, and made a duty call upon her mother after church every Sunday, a time at which Mrs. Scratchell was less distracted by thoughts about the kettle or the kitchen generally than at other periods of her existence; for the Scratchells always had a cold dinner on the Sabbath, not so much from piety as from a conviction of Mrs. Scratchell’s that cold meat went further than hot. This kind of intercourse was not what the Scratchells--especially Clementina and Flora--had expected; but they were fain to be thankful for the favours they received, and never carried their murmurs further than the sacred home circle, where, sitting round the winter fire, they discoursed at their ease upon Bella’s worldliness and want of natural feeling. ‘I was so glad when Lady Jane refused to go to her dinner party,’ said Clementina. ‘We weren’t asked to that party. Oh no. We were not good enough to meet Lady Jane--nor the Timperleys either. And Lady Jane wrote and told Bella that she only went out to dine with old friends. Wasn’t that splendid?’ ‘Did Bella tell you?’ asked Mr. Scratchell. ‘Catch her! She’s too proud to tell me she’s been snubbed. Lady Jane told Mrs. Dulcimer, and Mrs. Dulcimer told me, and I’ve no doubt everybody in the village knows all about it by this time.’ ‘No doubt,’ sighed Mrs. Scratchell, in her doleful way. ‘It was a pity Bella put herself so forward.’ CHAPTER VII. IN THE CHURCHYARD. ‘MY dear,’ said Mrs. Dulcimer to Beatrix quite suddenly one evening, when she and Kenrick were sitting round the fire in the snug dining-room, a little while before tea, ‘Cyril must certainly assist at your marriage.’ Happily for Beatrix, the lamp had not yet been brought in. There was only the changeful and uncertain firelight, which just at this moment left her face in shadow. ‘Well, yes,’ returned Kenrick. ‘I think Cyril ought to be invited. If he were not present it would look as if there were some quarrel between us. And we are very good friends, are we not, dear?’ he added, turning to his betrothed. ‘Yes,’ faltered Beatrix. ‘If he were not here people would talk,’ pursued Mrs. Dulcimer. ‘You see, Bridford is not more than thirty miles distant, and, as Kenrick’s first cousin and Mr. Dulcimer’s late curate, it would be only natural for Cyril to assist at the ceremony.’ ‘I will write and ask him to-morrow,’ said Kenrick. ‘I ought to have thought of it before.’ ‘He has been very ill,’ suggested Beatrix. ‘He may not be strong enough to travel.’ ‘Thirty miles only, my dear. A mere nothing,’ said Mrs. Dulcimer. ‘Besides, he has quite recovered--or, at any rate, he has gone back to his duty. Clement told me so a week ago.’ ‘Kenrick,’ said Beatrix a little later, when she and her lover were walking to the Water House together through the wintry night, ‘is it really necessary for your cousin to be at our wedding?’