"Well," she said, "I don't call a thousand a year excessive to secure Will--in Morecambe..." Mrs. Surdan was _naturally_ pleased. For them, at least, it is a great match. "_I_ little thought that it would end like this, when you asked me to take charge of Hilda for three months," I said. And that reminded me that what they called "Hilda's pocket-money" was lying almost untouched at the bank in Arthur's name. There had been no ball, hardly anything... But I could not get Mrs. Surdan to say what should be done with it... "I'm sure you didn't," she answered. "So, if it's a failure, don't blame me," I said. "And, if it's a success, don't thank me." "I shall always thank you for your kindness to Hilda," she said, "especially when she was ill." "That was nothing," I said. "Hilda's parents don't think so." And then she did a difficult thing very gracefully. We must have the girl's room properly disinfected, she told me; I assured her that Arthur had already received an estimate for redecorating the whole house. Thanks to them, we were now in a position... Hilda's room, she insisted, must be her province. I have told you that in the old committee days she positively _imposed_ her will on the rest of us; so now. She would not leave the house until she had dragged the estimate out of me by main force. The work has recently been completed. There was the usual letter to ask if we were satisfied, and Arthur wrote out a cheque. It was returned. Mr. Surdan had asked to have the account sent to him... I was _beside_ myself with anger at such a liberty... I tell this against myself, because, having gone to curse, I stayed to pray, as it were. Mrs. Surdan wouldn't let me speak. "Hilda is our only child, as Mr. Will is yours," she said. "If anything had happened to her, you can imagine what we should have thought. Is it altogether kind to say that we must not thank you for your devotion to our little girl?" There you have the woman--clever, direct, going _straight_ to my weak place... What could one say? VI LADY ANN SPENWORTH HOLDS THE _Corps Diplomatique_ TO ITS DUTY _Lady Ann_ (_to a friend of proved discretion_): I feel--don't you?--that, if the embassies can give no enlightenment, they might just as well not be there. Paris is different, of course; nowadays it is hardly more than a suburb of London; with that vast cosmopolitan army always coming and going, one is hardly expected to be one's brother's keeper. And Washington is unlike any other capital; one goes there _en poste_--or not at all. But in Vienna or Rome... Goodness me, in the old days when my father was ambassador, it was a matter of course. When a new star swam into your ken, you made enquiries in the English colony; if not known there or at the embassy, a wise woman stayed her hand until she had a _little_ something to go on.