So ill-bred—so snobbish—to talk of your great acquaintances in public! And as for Lady Risborough’s answer—“I don’t care twopence about the Duchess, Hugh! and I haven’t seen Ewen for six years,”—it had been merely humbug, for she had obediently followed her husband, all the same. Recollections of this kind went trickling through Mrs. Hooper’s mind, roused by Ewen’s angry defence of his sister. It was all very well, but now the long-legged child had grown up, and was going to put her—Ellen Hooper’s—daughters in the shade, to make them feel their inferiority, just as the mother had done with herself. Of course the money was welcome. Constance was to contribute three hundred a year, which was a substantial addition to an income which, when all supplemental earnings—exams, journalism, lectures—were counted, rarely reached seven hundred. But they would be “led into expenses”—the maid was evidently a most exacting woman; and meanwhile, Alice, who was just out, and was really quite a pretty girl, would be entirely put in the background by this young woman with her forward manner, and her title, and the way she had as though the world belonged to her. Mrs. Hooper felt no kinship with her whatever. She was Ewen’s blood—not hers; and the mother’s jealous nature was all up in arms for her own brood—especially for Alice. Nora could look after herself, and invariably did. Besides Nora was so tiresome! She was always ready to give the family case away—to give everything away, preposterously. And, apropos, Mrs. Hooper expressed her annoyance with some silly notions Nora had just expressed to her. “I do hope, Ewen, you won’t humour and spoil Constance too much! Nora says now she’s dissatisfied with her room and wants to buy some furniture. Well, let her, I say. She has plenty of money, and we haven’t. We have given her a great deal more than we give our own daughters—” “She pays us, my dear!” Mrs. Hooper straightened her thin shoulders. “Well, and you give her the advantage of your name and your reputation here. It is not as though you were a young don, a nobody. You’ve made your position. Everybody asks us to all the official things—and Connie, of course, will be asked, too.” A smile crept round Dr. Hooper’s weak and pleasant mouth. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ellen, that Connie will find Oxford society very amusing after Rome and the Riviera.” “That will be her misfortune,” said Mrs. Hooper, stoutly. “Anyway, she will have all the advantages we have. We take her with us, for instance, to the Vice-Chancellor’s to-night?” “Do we?” Dr. Hooper groaned. “By the way, can’t you let me off, Ellen? I’ve got such a heap of work to do.” “Certainly not! People who shut themselves up never get on, Ewen. I’ve just finished mending your gown, on purpose. How you tear it as you do, I can’t think! But I was speaking of Connie. We shall take her, of course—” “Have you asked her?” “I told her we were all going—and to meet Lord Glaramara. She didn’t say anything.”