‘Now, don’t be spiteful, Miss Grey; when one lady does not approve of another it is the right thing to say that she is spiteful----’ the General said in an explanatory way, to take away the sting of the word which had come out unawares. ‘And it is very pleasant in a country place to see a little company,’ said Mrs. Kendal, ‘not that I care for great parties--nor the Archdeacon; but it makes a little stir----’ ‘It keeps a movement in the air,’ said Mrs. FitzStephen, retiring from the fire. ‘Well, there will be plenty of it,’ said Miss Grey. ‘But, my dear lady, we must not have you cross--cross is what you never were; and society don’t you know, in this paradise of Watcham is the only thing we want.’ ‘It would be very nice,’ said Mrs. FitzStephen, with a little sigh; ‘though we have all done without it nicely, with our little tea parties, and a friend from town from Saturday to Monday, and so forth.’ ‘I never wish for more,’ said Mrs. Kendal, ‘nor the Archdeacon; it is just what we like: but dear me, when I was young--I’ve danced sometimes all night.’ ‘We’ve heard the chimes at midnight,’ said the General, rubbing his hands; ‘so I don’t see any great occasion, my dear ladies, to be afraid.’ Miss Grey said nothing, but there was a little twitter and thrill in her, half visible in the firelight, as of a bird stirring on a bough; perhaps this proceeded from a little nodding of her head, very slight, but continued like a little protest under her breath. ‘And then think of the young ladies,’ said General FitzStephen jauntily; ‘I have always heard that Lady William met her husband there----’ ‘There is not much chance for any of them to meet their husbands here: I often try to induce the General to ask a nice young man--from Saturday to Monday, you know--the only way we could ever induce a man from town to come here: but he says it isn’t good enough--and asks his old fogies instead----’ ‘The old fogies are more agreeable to us, my dear,’ said the General, ‘and the young ladies must find their husbands for themselves: but when the Hall is full of fine company as our dear friend predicts----’ Upon which Miss Grey, nodding, introduced what seemed an entirely new and uncalled-for assertion. ‘James Plowden,’ she said, ‘though he is the Rector, is not a wise man any more than his father was before him----’ ‘My dear lady!’ cried the General. ‘Miss Grey!’ said Mrs. Kendal mildly, out of the dark. ‘Nelly, Nelly!’ cried Mrs. FitzStephen, who was the one most intimate with the culprit. ‘James Plowden,’ repeated Miss Grey, ‘is no Solomon, as you all very well know. I am saying nothing against him--he’s a very good man: but though he hasn’t very much wisdom, if he thought one of his girls was to get a prince for her husband in the same way as his sister got hers, he is not the man I think him, if he ever let one of them put a foot inside that door.’