And the young people--the very modern ones--who think nice manners 'early Victorian,' and like her rudeness for the sake of her cleverness.

But the rest!--What do you think she did at one of these parties last year ?" Doris could not help wishing to know.
"She took a fancy to ask a girl near here--the daughter of a clergyman, a great friend of Lord Dunstable's, to come over for the Sunday.

Lord Dunstable had talked of the girl, and Rachel's always on the look-out for cleverness; she hunts it like a hound! She met the young woman too somewhere, and got the impression--I can't say how--that she would 'go.' So on the Saturday morning she went over in her pony-carriage--broke in on the little Rectory like a hurricane--of course you know the people about here regard her as something semi-divine!--and told the girl she had come to take her back to Crosby Ledgers for the Sunday.

So the poor child packed up, all in a flutter, and they set off together in the pony-carriage--six miles.

And by the time they had gone four Rachel had discovered she had made a mistake--that the girl wasn't clever, and would add nothing to the party.