This went on for what was really a long time without disturbance. The establishment of the Arthur Curtises in Rose Villas gave the little world of Underhayes many causes of deliberation. Should they call? was a question hotly discussed. Call? on Bates the tax-collector’s daughter! Could anything be more absurd? the elder ladies said. But the younger ones were interested; who would not be interested in such a romantic business? and the gentlemen were either sorry for or curious about the young husband who had thus sacrificed everything to “a pretty face.” For the girl was just an uneducated girl like any other in her position, everybody said. There was no innate superiority in Nancy to justify her elevation, neither had her husband taken pains as even a romantic young fool, now and then, did, to educate her before making her his wife. Even now, so far as anyone knew, no attempt was being made to qualify Mrs. Arthur for her husband’s position in society. They had settled at Rose Villas, avowedly that she might be near her mother--with whom she was said to spend half her time; and no judicious governess or master able to impart instruction in those accomplishments which must have been wanting in her, was ever seen to enter her gates. Not even trying to improve her mind! She got the pick of the novels which came in Mudie’s box to the local library, in right of an unusually liberal subscription; but what could novels do for her? Under these circumstances, it became a doubly difficult question to know what to do. When she came home at first she had been very well dressed, which had made an impression in her favour. Her dark blue “silk” had filled the Green with admiration and envy. “Paris, of course!” the ladies said, who, notwithstanding their disapproval of such a marriage, were very curious indeed about the bride; and some added a joke or a sigh at the idea of putting delicate garments from Paris, not upon such as themselves, who could appreciate them, but upon Nancy Bates! However, this mingled approbation and disdain soon came to an end, for it was not long before the dark blue silk was thrown aside in favour of more showy garments. “If that is all they can do in Paris!” Sarah Jane had said, at the sight of it, and she had spent some time at a milliner’s in town and ought to know. Her own family all thought Nancy’s dresses dowdy, and ridiculously quiet for a bride; and the original “silk” which her parents had given her had been brought to the front again, with others of a similar character. “I made myself a dowdy to please Arthur. He likes it,” said Nancy; “but one can’t go on humouring one’s husband for ever, can one, mamma? One must think for one’s self sooner or later, and ladies surely know best about their own dress.” Arthur had not attempted any remonstrance, what was the use? And Nancy had reappeared with a brightness of colour and breadth of ornament, which pleased her family a great deal better.