"Oh but, dear Miss Hood, she always laughs at us; only just now she inquired after that poor afflicted Mr. Dabbler. I knew she was laughing at us, and so did Connie, and then she said something dreadful in French about an ass and two bundles of hay; I'm sure we're not like bundles of hay," said the girl with an indignant sob. "But we neither mind a joke from dear Miss Warrender, do we, Connie?" "But we should be such a party, my dears." "Oh, that would only make it more delightful," cried the girl with triumphant eyes, as she noticed the slight indication of capitulation in Miss Hood's voice. "We're neighbours after all, you know, and haymaking too; why, the squire goes to Mr. Wurzel's harvest home. Nothing but the haymaking, and a little dance afterwards; oh, we should be _so_ grateful." "What's that about a little dance?" cried Georgie's husband with unaffected interest. "Oh, Mr. Haggard, it's nothing; it's only an idea of pa's; it's our haymaking, you know, and we've been asking Miss Hood if The Warren won't honour us for once in a way." Both girls fixed their eyes appealingly on Haggard's face. The squire's son-in-law was quite aware that the wealthy Mr. Sleek was a _parvenu_. He knew that old Warrender would no more dine at The Park than he would think of attending the services of the Dissenting minister; but he himself was already beginning to feel rather hipped with the novelty of his quiet life at The Warren. "Come, my dear Miss Sleek? of course we'll come. Georgie," he said to his wife, "Miss Sleek is good enough to ask us to her father's place. We'll be only too glad, of course." With Georgie to yield to her husband's slightest wish was a second nature. "Certainly, Reginald, if you wish it. I shall be very pleased," she added, though with an effort. "It'll be great fun, I'm sure," exclaimed Haggard; "but you'll have mercy, Miss Sleek: you won't work us so hard at the haymaking as to knock us up for the promised dance, and you'll keep one little dance for me, won't you?" he added with cool familiarity. The girl's face reddened with pleasure as she acquiesced with effusion. And as she thought of the glowing description in the local paper of the forthcoming festivities at The Park, her eyes sparkled with the anticipation of triumph. It would be an epoch in her life to have danced with a peer's great-nephew, with the husband of one of the reigning queens of society. But fresh joys were yet in store for the Misses Sleek. "You'll let me bring my friend Spunyarn, won't you?" said Haggard; "he's coming down to-morrow." "Oh, we shall be delighted," chorused the girls, "for we are wofully short of men down here at King's Warren." The babble of conversation increased. Next morning each member of the group on The Warren lawn had received an elaborate copper-plate invitation to the Misses Sleek's haymaking, and the small and early dance that was to follow it.