"Nothing at present, I think. One really can't leave cards on a cottage!" "But you might on the people in it. We can't very well ignore the squire of the place who is also our landlord." "It will be time enough to recognize him when he behaves like other people." "I don't see that he's a bit more peculiar than the University men who take to slumming. Anybody may do anything nowadays," May said with a little laugh. "He doesn't even come to church," persisted Mrs. Webster. "A weakness shared by many men." "But his sister might and _ought_," replied her mother, severely. "Mr. Curzon seems to think it equally necessary for men and women," said May, mischievously. "Oh yes. Of course he's a dear good man, and I wish we were all like him, but we aren't," answered Mrs. Webster, resigning all hope of anything but moral mediocrity with a gentle sigh. "He says Mr. Lessing is a very nice fellow; but you can't quite rely on his opinion: he's a good word for every one." "Which is delightful, but not amusing; and one does need amusement, mother. Suppose we call at the cottage and follow up the call by an invitation to dinner. We might ask the rector to meet them." "The worst of asking the rector is that he always wants something," said Mrs. Webster, a little plaintively. "That we haven't got?" "Oh, May, you know quite well what I mean! It must be the heat that is making you so argumentative. Mr. Curzon always has some pet hobby on hand for which he wants money, and of course he ought to have it; but really, just now, what with a trip abroad, and the London house to paint and paper throughout, I've not so much in hand as usual." "Enough for the rector's last hobby, I dare say. At any rate let's risk it. If we all air our different views we might have an exciting evening." "I wish things were as they used to be. The old major was such a thorough gentleman. It was quite a pleasure to give him a bed or dinner when he came down." "Is not this man a gentleman, then?" "Oh, my dear, I hope so; but he has queer views, if all I hear be true. I'm sure, if he says anything at dinner about our being all equal, I shan't be able to hold my tongue. We never were and never can be." "I believe Mr. Curzon thinks we are; only he likes poor people _much_ the best. He says the truest gentleman he ever came across is old Macdonald." "Now it is wild talk like that that makes me sometimes distrust Mr. Curzon; and he ought to know better, being of such good family himself," said Mrs. Webster, fretfully. "Is it not at the Macdonalds that the Lessings are lodging? As you seem to wish it, we will call this afternoon."