Cicely, till the war broke out, accepted life very much as she found it, although at school a glimmering had come to her that it wasn’t for all girls the pleasant pilgrimage from cradle to altar, and thence in the remote future to the grave, which a daughter of the House of Chandos might naturally deem it. She and Arabella Tiddle had agreed that they belonged to the Sunshiners, as Arabella put it—flowers in a parterre, carefully tended and cherished. It must be awful, for instance, to be like Miss Spong and Miss Minchin, assistant mistresses, labelled by their pupils as “Spot” and “Plain.” Everybody knew that Miss Spong’s father drank, even on Sundays; and Miss Minchin, it was generally believed, worked hard during the “hols” as a typist. The whole school had sustained an appalling shock when little Doris Reed mysteriously vanished from a classroom and was never seen again. Her father, a fraudulent bankrupt, had walked into a tunnel, preferring to meet an express train rather than his infuriated creditors. All the details were in the daily papers. One of Cicely’s friends, a queer, tall, scraggy girl, interested herself in criminology, collecting clippings wherever she might find them which set forth horrors. She was honourably known as “Old Goose-flesh,” and possessed a perfectly thrilling brooch revealing under crystal a tiny strand of a rope upon which a murderer had been hanged!

Cicely, however, as a “Sunshiner,” turned her head from these shadows. A tithe of her pocket-money was given in charity. One girl, chronically hard up, borrowed five shillings which were never repaid. Ought this to be regarded as part of the tithe? Arabella, with inherited business instincts, answered in the affirmative. Eventually Cicely wrote to Dr. Pawley about it, and he decided against Arabella. A fortnight later Cicely received a box of chocolates which Arabella priced at ten shillings. For a week at least Cicely wondered who had sent the chocolates. She wrote an effusive letter of thanks to Brian, who sent another box, expressing regret that he had not thought of sending the first. Cicely, with a chocolate in her mouth, observed triumphantly:

“You see, Tiddy, out of evil comes good.”

“Yes; you’re fifteen bob up on the deal.”

From this happy conclusion there was no budging. Goodrich preached the comfortable doctrine from the pulpit; experience confirmed it. Evil had to be, because good oozed out of it. In the same philosophic spirit Arabella’s father advertised the virtues of Tiddle’s Family Pellets. If people didn’t suffer with dyspepsia Lady Tiddle wouldn’t wear pearls.

Cicely left school and returned to Upworthy with half a dozen delightful vistas of fun and enjoyment in front of her. Hunting, tennis, balls, jolly house parties, presentation at Court, and a London season....

The outbreak of war closed all these avenues down which she and Arabella had hoped to dance so joyously.

Lady Selina, moreover, refused to share Arthur Wilverley’s conviction that the interests of high finance and industry would be paramount in determining hostilities within a year. Her brother, Lord Saltaire, held no such rosy views. Inspissated gloom settled upon that nobleman, not without reason. His vast estates were heavily dipped; he had never been able to lay by a penny-piece; the calls upon his ever-diminishing purse were innumerable. He said to his sister:

“The burden of increased taxation will be back-breaking, my dear Selina. We shall be hit harder than any other class. So I advise you to economise. Cut down expenses to the irreducible minimum! That’s my first and last word.”

Lady Selina sent for Gridley.

“Lord Saltaire,” she told her obsequious bailiff, “is reducing expenses to the minimum. We must do the same.”

“Very good, my lady.”

She added, with an irritability rare with her:

“So pray don’t come bothering me about money. For the present, and for some time to come, we must ‘carry on’—that, I am told, is the correct expression—as best we may.”

“Certainly, my lady. In my humble opinion, the Hearl is right. I hope your ladyship knows that I shall cut down everything.”

He spoke as if the prospect of cheeseparing afforded him intense satisfaction, but Lady Selina didn’t notice that, and remarked:

“Yes, yes; you are a good, faithful soul. We must practise self-denial, even in our charities.”

Much to her gratification, Cicely behaved like a perfect darling. It made the fond mother miserable to think that her girl should have her “coming out” burked by cruel fate. But Cicely kissed her and said:

“I shall enjoy my good time all the more when it does come, Mums.”

Lady Selina inclined her head mournfully. She entertained no delusions on that point. Procrastination did not enhance the virgin joys of “coming out.” Nevertheless, she confronted an abominable situation with fortitude, making no protest when Cicely insisted upon becoming a V.A.D. That meant the loss of more “bloom.” Balm descended upon her lacerated tissues, you may be sure, when Cicely went to Wilverley Court. If dear Arthur seized this great opportunity all would be well. Striving to interpret the inscrutable ways of Providence, she seemed to discern the Omnipotent Finger tracing Cicely’s future in gleaming letters upon a dark background. Left alone in her big house, she denied herself cream, and drastically reduced her establishment.

It will be admitted that Grimshaw, bursting with impatience to give Upworthy a cleaner bill of health, had not chosen the most opportune moment to further his plans.