The note of invitation from “my _fiancé’s_ mother” is purely formal and absolutely non-committal; in fact, exactly the note I should have imagined that a Mrs. Waters would write. I’ve got a perfectly clear mental image of this mother of an animated tape-machine. Handsome, in a regular-profiled, stately, mid-Victorian style, with steely grey eyes that “corkscrew” all the self-possession out of you, and—oh, the manner! She won’t be openly disagreeable after all, I’ve decided. Worse; she’ll be rigidly, frigidly polite; clothing in irreproachable civilities the obvious wonder whether her son has taken leave of his senses, to propose to one of his own employees. She writes that she looks forward (of course!) with pleasure (_dis_-pleasure, she means) to making my acquaintance (_will_ she!) at The Lawn (well, I suppose they can’t _call_ their house The Sarcophagus. But that’s what it ought to be. A glorified edition of the Governor’s private office. Marble halls and chilly statuary—brr!) on Monday next. I expect she guesses that “this Miss Trant,” or “that young woman,” or “the horrid little typist-person,” or whatever she calls me in her own mind, will be rather overwhelmed by the prospect; and no doubt Mrs. Waters means to see that I shall continue being overwhelmed—“kept in my place,” indeed—during the whole of the fortnight that the Governor specified. But she can’t realize the positive panic with which I anticipate the meeting. And, if I can steel myself to help it, she _shall not_ realize it. “I should think you can hardly wait until you get there, Tots,” said Cicely, watching me pack new clothes in the new dress-basket bought specially for the dread occasion, for I’ve spent every minute of two days in shopping. “Aren’t you _dying_ to see what everything is going to be like?” “I shall have to survive until to-morrow, anyhow.” “‘His’ home! His father’s dead, you said. Is there only his mother?” “I suppose so. Quite enough too. _I_ think all engaged men ought to be orphans and only children before they begin, for the sake of the girl. ‘Only’ his mother, indeed!” “Well, she’s _bound_ to be pleased with you, Tots! You’re so pretty and ripping, especially now you’ve got all these lovely new things. What a mercy that you had that little windfall of a legacy just in time to let you buy all fresh!” (This is how I’ve been obliged to account for that.) “You could go and stay anywhere now, meet anybody! He’ll be so proud of you. It must be such a comfort for an engaged man when he knows that his people and his friends _can see what he means_ when he shows off his _fiancée_ to them for the first time, instead of their wondering what on earth he finds to admire!” “Do you think Mrs. Waters will ‘see what he means’ by his getting himself engaged to his clerk?” I said, with a private giggle at my own bitterness. “I wish _I_ did!”