"Hadn't you better go and take off that beautiful dress?" she said. "You're not really dining out, are you?" "No, dearest, I managed to get out of it, but alas! I've got to go to the Reception--you know--that horrid Royal Institution of Water Colours--afterwards. It isn't worth while to change again. Oh, how weary one does get of the continual round! And then to-morrow!" She sighed. "What is it to-morrow?" "To-morrow! Don't talk of it! There's Mrs. Morris's At Home in Maida Hill, and then right at the other end of London the Hyslop-Dunn's in Victoria Grove. Oh, dear! And yet one feels one must be _seen_ at all these places, darling, or else it's remarked at once." "You live too much for the world," replied her mother, tidying up some half-finished watercress sandwiches with a sharp knife. She wondered if, thus repaired, they would do for next Thursday. "You know, Mummy dear, that's the worst of our terrible profession. We must keep before the public, or else we drop out and are forgotten. What a sweet creature Valentia Wyburn is! I thought she was quite, quite dear. And the husband and the cousin are darlings too. Of course they wouldn't come; I couldn't get them to an afternoon." She got up and looked in the glass. "What a crowd there was to-day! Three people came up to the front door at the same time. I think they enjoyed themselves, don't you? Though I feel I can't pay every one proper attention when there's such a crush, but I do my little best.... Mr. Simpson came up to me and told me I looked quite wonderful. But he's a silly thing." She pouted and put her head on one side. "Did I look too hideous, darling?" "Beautiful, of course. The only thing is ..." Miss Luscombe clapped her hands and laughed. "Did its little girlie really look as nice as all that? Oh, Mummy, Mummy!" "Charming, dear, I only wish that ..." "It's too proud of its little daughter, that's what it is," said Miss Luscombe, sitting on the arm of her mother's chair. "It's a silly, vain, conceited mother, that it is. It can't see any fault in its pet." She tried to pat her mother's cheek. Mrs. Luscombe moved aside with justifiable irritation. "Don't do that, Flora! Yes, dear, of course, I think you're wonderful, and looked sweet to-day; but I do wish ..." "No, no, it doesn't want anything," said Flora. "I should be so pleased--if you'd put on just a little less lip-salve and not quite so much of that bluish powder." Having succeeded in completing her sentence, her mother got up and faded quickly out of the room and shut the door, leaving Flora looking quite surprised and rather upset with being found fault with. Indeed, she did not quite recover her equanimity until she had looked over the cards in the hall and put on a great deal more powder and lip-salve, after which she told her mother perhaps she was right, and in any case she, Flora, would always do what she asked, and would always follow her dear, dear Mummy's advice.