Now that Lent was over dinner parties came on with a rush, started, as was only discreet, with a state gathering at the Court, when the county was invited to welcome the bride. The Vicar and his wife were the sole representatives of Chumley proper, but Dane Peignton was in request, as an odd man is bound to be in the countryside. "It will be deadly dull," Cassandra had warned her friend, "but it has to be done. Brace up, and go through it bravely, and if you don't like it you need never try again." "I won't," Grizel said frankly. "A duty is a duty, and has to be done whether you like it or not, but I choose my pleasures to suit myself. If I'm amused I'll go,--if I'm not, all the saddles of mutton in the world won't tempt me. It always amuses me to be with you, my dear, but judging from the specimens I've already seen, it's a very, very heavy county. The women are heavy in the afternoon. I tremble to think of what they must be in the drawing-room after dinner. Could I do anything to jolt them up? Put on a black gown, or do a little skirt dancing, or tell stories? I could tell some awakening stories!" But Cassandra shook her head and issued her orders. "You are to wear your wedding dress, and behave yourself like a sweet young bride, and do credit to yourself, and to me, and to your husband's books! When you go to Rome, do as the Romans do." When the night of the dinner arrived the sweet young bride repaired to her husband's dressing-room _en route_ from the bathroom to her own apartment, and squatted on the floor to watch _him_ shave, with her white gown wrapped around a foam of lacey under-garments, and her white shoes kicked off on to the rug. She looked young, and fresh, and blooming, and brought with her a delicious odour of violets, and it appeared to afford her intense satisfaction to watch Martin lather his chin, and twist it from side to side for the convenience of the safety razor. "Darling, you _do_ look plain! I love you dreadfully when I see you shave. All that trouble to spare me a beard! ... Don't cut yourself, like a precious. I do so object to bits of cotton-wool... Doesn't it feel nice and married to have me sitting here, watching you, in my bare tootsies, and knowing that even the Vicaress herself could not object? She'll be there to-night, you know. What will she wear?--A black satin, cut in a V, with a pendant of agate, and a cap with an aigrette. Dear thing! I must remember to enquire for the Mothers' Meeting." Martin, his chin violently undulating, murmured a word which was evidently of a warning nature, but Grizel took no notice. Her hands were clasped round her knees, she was smiling, in a soft reflective fashion.