‘In a slightly nearer degree than we all do through Adam,’—Mrs. Fremantle put up her chin impatiently. ‘It is only a whim of darling Mrs. Hilliard’s to acknowledge it. As for Miss Constable’—the lady took up the broken thread of her discourse—‘she is so cold and stiff, she has got into such a habit of repressing herself—I suppose from having been compelled to hold the other shopkeepers at arm’s length, it is a positive effort to maintain an acquaintance with her; and where is the use, when she will never let herself out so that one has no chance of knowing her any better? It would be cruel to tease the Constables further by going on—trying to draw them away from their old set, which is quite respectable in its way. They may really be happier in it, education or no education. We have given them the opportunity of coming among us, and if we do not suit them, there is no more to be said. Of course we shall still be on bowing and speaking terms, which may be a little awkward when it leads to nothing more—otherwise I daresay it is all for the best.’ Fan writhed under what she guessed of this result, and Oliver grinned at it. But neither of the two did anything, after they had set the ball moving, to prevent the catastrophe. The single reservation in the sentence which consigned the Constables once more to the Coventry of vulgar allies, occurred in the case of Mrs. Hilliard. Her house was, as in the beginning, the neutral ground on which the relapsed tradespeople could still encounter the professional circle. Mrs. Hilliard had proclaimed her blood-relationship with the Constables, while it was a point of honour with her to assert openly her interest in the most distant of her kindred. She announced now with the greatest _sang froid_, and with a suspicion of gratified mischief, in the line she adopted—including as she did the culprits among the recipients of the announcement—that she did not mean to give Oliver and Fan Constable up, neither did she mean them to give her up, since there were two at making a bargain and picking a quarrel. It is putting it mildly to say that Fan did not like Louisa Hilliard and objected to being taken up by her, either on the score of remote relationship or anything else; but the girl could not bring herself, even with her strong dislikes, to reject the last refuge against finding herself reduced solely to the society of the Dadds and the Polleys. Oliver rather enjoyed the broad tolerance of Mrs. Hilliard’s self-indulgent _bonhomie_, and he had a hankering still after having the entrance to the Meadows, though he availed himself of it to his own hurt, smarting as he did under the total absence of sympathy there, even more so than at home, from another Hilliard than Louisa. Between Fan’s passiveness and Oliver’s treacherous inclinations, the exception to the social ban was admitted, and Mrs. Hilliard carried her point triumphantly as usual.