Canon Bright and the secretary were jubilant at supper, thanking everyone; they would call in a day or two. If Mrs Gresham would let them, they would help her with the accounts. But Dollie told them pleasantly that she wanted no help as yet. A few days later she sat with Esmé over piles of papers, totting carelessly. "They've charged horribly for those sweets. Oh! and Claire's bill is exorbitant!" She held it up. "It's double what it ought to be," said Esmé. "H'm!" Dollie totted. "I want to pay her off. Just a little on to the hall account, and to odd nothings, and there are a few extra gowns in the price of the blue; that will make it right. One can't slave for nothing," said Dollie. "You can get a couple of gowns, too. I arranged that with her. It was worth it," said Dollie, "to stop the woman's mouth." When cheques came in other people seemed to have found their expenses equally high. London tradesmen charge highly for decorating, for assistance. The golden coins paid out for charity went for glitter and show, for gowns and waste. The Ritz had not paid its way. All stall-holders lunched and dined free there. Hunt & Mason sent in a bill of some size. In a month's time Dollie wanted it all to be forgotten; she sent a cheque to the hospital with all her accounts carefully copied out. The secretary turned pale as he read the amount. "That!" he said, "that--after it all! And now, for a year's time, if we appeal for funds, people will say, 'But you've just had that bazaar; we went there, bought lavishly, we cannot help again so soon.' "Miss Harnett," he said heavily to the matron, "we must give up all idea of that west ward; we cannot afford it; or those new reclining chairs and instruments." He wrote drearily, for his heart was in his work, to Canon Bright. "All such a splendid success," Dollie's friends had said to her, and kindly Royalty, with its love of true charity, asked her to a select garden-party. CHAPTER IX "I am going to Cliff End on Friday, Estelle. Will you come? We'll start at eight, and get back about ten." "I'd love to. London is baking me." June heat glowed through the huge city; the pavements were hot under the fierce sun; the air felt used up, heavy; the packed streets vibrated under their load of wheeled monsters, of swooping, gliding taxis. Everyone was going somewhere; busy, smiling, full of the business of pleasure. Old faces were lined under powder and face cream; young ones had lost their colour a little. Perfectly gowned, with hair in the order of the moment, faintly scented, smiling, woman, hawk-like, swooped on her natural prey, man. Soft debutantes, white-robed, hopeful, fluttered as they dreamt of the matches which they might make. Anxious, youthful mothers spent their all, and more, to give their girls a chance. Older girls smiled more confidently, yet were less hopeful of drawing some great prize.