If the Whittaker girls had been unpopular as children, they certainly made up for it, so far as Northampton Park was concerned, when they became young women. The innovation of having an At Home day of their own, at which their mother made a point of not appearing, was so daring that every girl in the Park made it her duty to be present thereat, and when it was bruited abroad that it was really a girl's At Home, with no overshadowing mothers and such like sober persons, that the girls had their own room and their own tea-things, and excellent provision in the way of cakes, and that cigarettes were allowed after six o'clock, then not only the girls, but also their brothers, soon came flocking into Ye Dene in considerable numbers. The whole winter did this state of things continue, until the At Home days at Ye Dene were no longer a nine days' wonder but an established fact. Then Maudie and Julia began to meet with other girls further afield than their own immediate vicinity, girls who were connections or friends of the girls who lived in the Park, and invitations began to shower in upon Regina's daughters. They were perfectly independent--Regina wished them to be so, and prided herself on the fact that they were so--and as their comings and goings did not interfere with the comfort of their father, Alfred Whittaker saw nothing to which he could frame any reasonable objection in his daughters' mode of life. It happened one afternoon that the two girls were having tea and muffins in their own sitting-room. It was just before Easter, that week when the tide of suburban entertaining lulls a little, and the two were sitting by a blazing fire in big wicker chairs drawn close up to the fender, the low Moorish tea-table conveniently placed between them. "Maudie," said Julia, suddenly, "I think we shall have to pull up." "Pull up! why?" Maudie's tone was blank, for she herself had a particular reason for not wanting to pull up in any shape or form just then. "We're getting too cheap," said Julia. "Cheap! and we've spent nearly all our dress allowance!" Maudie exclaimed. "I don't mean cheap in that way. No, we're getting cheap socially. Anybody thinks they can come to our days and bring anyone they like, and we do half the entertaining of the Park for people who do nothing for us." "It makes us popular," said Maudie, helping herself to another piece of muffin. "Yes, yes, but is such popularity worth it?" "I don't know." "Are we going on right through the season?" "Well, you know, Ju, the season doesn't make much difference to us." "It's going to," said Julia. "Is it going to this season?" Maudie demanded. "That's the question--is it going to this season?" "I don't see why not. We've got any amount of invitations for next month, and not more than a third of them are in the Park. A third? A quarter, I should say. Now I'll tell you what I propose doing." "Well?"