“Thank you--that’s enough,” said Rosa. “And let me offer you some of the machine-made butter on the machine-made bread.” “I think I’ll try a hand at a hand-made sandwich,” said Mrs. Bowlby-Sutherst. “There’s a joke in that somewhere, I feel--can you catch it?” “Hand-made sandwiches made by the handmaid of the caterer--is that it?” asked Rosa after a thoughtful frown--the frown of the habitual prize acrostic-solver and anagram-maker of the English vicarage. Mrs. Gifford felt rather neglected when the two others laughed together quite merrily. She rather thought that she would take a stroll round the grounds. “One of the cats,” whispered Rosa. “The leader of the tabbies,” assented Mrs. Bowlby-Sutherst. “But don’t you make any mistake, my dear: although she’s wild to hear that your friend is doing so well for herself----” “And for Mr. Wingfield.” “And for Mr. Wingfield--in spite of that, you may rest perfectly certain that she will leave cards with pencilled congratulations upon the Manor people as early as possible to-morrow. Another sandwich?” And that prognosis turned out to be correct. Several members of the best set called at the Manor the next day and left congratulatory cards. They had in view the possibility of future _fêtes_ at the Manor; they would do any reasonable amount of calling or crawling to get invited to a garden-party given by a county person; and Miss Wadhurst was to be promoted over the heads of a large number of aspirants to a position in the county. Although there were a certain number of persons who affirmed that she was showing very doubtful taste indeed in becoming engaged to any one, even a man with a rent roll of something like fifteen thousand a year, within a few months after receiving the news of the death of the other man, still Miss Wadhurst got quite a large number of cards of the same nature from ladies who had done their best to keep her in her place in the past, and who were clearly hoping that their failure to do so would prejudice her in their favour in the days to come. But when a month had passed and the people of Framsby had almost ceased discussing the question of the advancement of Miss Wadhurst, there came a faint rumour to the effect that the _rapprochement_ between the young couple was not quite so complete as it had been. They were no longer seen together either on foot or in the motor, and while heads were being shaken and significant winks exchanged, the definite announcement was made (by Mrs. Gifford) that a final rupture had taken place. The engagement was broken off, and the principals to that pencilled contract had separated.