The Golden Calf | Page 8

to expect strawberries. Yes,
my dears, you may thank me for your garden party.'
'Dear Miss Dulcibella,' exclaimed one.
'You too delicious darling,' cried another.
'What will you wear?' asked a third, knowing that Miss Dulcie was
weak about dress, and had a morbid craving for originality.
'Well, dears,' began Miss Dulcie, growing radiant at the thrilling
question, 'I have been thinking of making up my art needlework
tunic--the pale green, you know, with garlands of passion flowers,

worked in crewels--over a petticoat of the faintest primrose.'
'That will be quite too lovely,' exclaimed four enthusiasts in a chorus.
'You know how fond I am of those delicate tints in that soft Indian
cashmere, that falls in such artistic folds.'
'Heavenly,' sighed the chorus, and Miss Dulcie went on talking for
half-an-hour by Chertsey clock, in fact till the tea-bell broke up the
little conclave.
What was Ida Palliser going to wear at the garden party? The question
was far more serious for her than for Miss Dulcibella, who had plenty
of money to spend upon her adornment. In Ida the necessity for a new
gown meant difficulty, perhaps mortification.
'Why should I not spend the day in one of the garrets, darning stockings
and packing boxes?' she said bitterly, when a grand discussion about
the garden party was being held in the butterfly-room; 'nobody will
want me. I have no relations coming to admire me.'
'You know you don't mean what you say,' said Miss Rylance. 'You
expect to have half-a-dozen prizes, and to lord it over all of us.'
'I have worked hard enough for the prizes,' answered Ida. 'I don't think
you need grudge me them.'
'I do not,' said Miss Rylance, with languid scorn. 'You know I never go
in for prizes. My father looks upon school as only a preliminary kind of
education. When I am at home with him in the season I shall have
lessons from better masters than any we are favoured with here.'
'What a comfort it is for us to know that!' retorted Ida, her eyes dancing
mischievously.
It was now within a week of the garden party. Miss Pew was grimmer
of aspect and louder of voice than usual, and it was felt that, at the
slightest provocation, she might send forth an edict revoking all her

invitations, and the party might be relegated to the limbo of unrealized
hopes. Never had the conduct of Miss Pew's pupils been so
irreproachable, never had lessons been learned, and exercises prepared,
so diligently.
Ida had received a kind little note from Mrs. Wendover, asking her to
spend her summer holidays at Kingthorpe, and at Bessie's earnest
desire had accepted the cordial invitation.
'You don't know what a foolish thing you are doing, Bess,' said Miss
Palliser, when--reluctant to the last--she had written her acceptance,
Bessie looking over her shoulder all the while. 'Foolish for you, foolish
for me. It is a mistake to associate yourself with paupers. You will feel
ashamed of me half-a-dozen times a day at Kingthorpe.'
'No, no, no!' cried the energetic Bessie; 'I shall never feel anything but
pride in you. I shall be proud to show my people what a beautiful,
brilliant, wonderful friend I have chosen for myself.'
'Ardent child!' exclaimed Ida, with a touch of sadness even in her
mockery. 'What a pity you have not a bachelor brother to fall in love
with me!'
'Never mind the brother. I have two bachelor cousins.'
'Of course! The rich Brian, and the poor Brian, whose histories I have
heard almost as often as I heard the story of "Little Red Ridinghood" in
my nursery days. Both good-looking, both clever, both young. One a
man of landed estate. All Kingthorpe parish belongs to him, does it
not?'
'All except the little bit that belongs to papa.'
'And Dr. Rylance's garden and paddock; don't forget that.'
'Could I forget the Rylances? Urania says that although her father has
no land at Kingthorpe, he has influence.'

'The other cousin dependent on his talents, and fighting his way at the
Bar. Is not that how the story goes, Bess?'
'Yes, darling. I am afraid poor Brian has hardly begun fighting yet. He
is only eating his terms. I have no idea what that means, but it sounds
rather low.'
'Well, Bess, if I am to marry either of your cousins, it must be the rich
one,' said Ida, decisively.
'Oh, Ida, how can you say so? You can't know which you will like best.'
'My likes and dislikes have nothing to do with it. I am going to marry
for money.'
Miss Rylance had brought her desk to that end of the table where the
two girls were sitting, during the latter part of the conversation. It was
evening, the hour or