Whether it was the smart turn-out which drew all eyes, or its charming occupant, Nell had soon experienced the felicity of attracting a great deal of attention when she drove in the Park. She became a noted figure, and never doubted that she owed this triumph to her splendid horses until her more knowledgeable sister-in-law remarked chattily, as she stepped into the carriage that day: “Isn’t it a fortunate circumstance, Nell, that you are fair and I am dark? I don’t wonder at it that everyone stares to see us: we take the shine out of all the other females! Mr. Bottisham told Hardwick so, and Hardwick says it is a compliment well worth having, because Mr. Bottisham is in general quite odiously censorious. I think,” she added, dispassionately considering the matter, “that you are prettier than I am, but on the other hand, I have a great deal of countenance, besides being dark, which is more in the mode, so I don’t excessively mind your being beautiful.”

Nell could not help laughing, but, with Miss Wilby’s precepts in mind, she ventured to suggest to Letty that such candour was a trifle improper.

“That is the sort of thing Aunt Chudleigh says,” observed Letty, unabashed. “For my part, I see nothing improper in speaking the truth. And you can’t deny that it is the truth!” She made herself comfortable beside Nell, and unfurled a pink sunshade. “We make a perfect picture,” she said complacently.

“I collect Lord Hardwick told you so!”

“Everyone tells me so!”

“Well, take care they don’t next tell you that you are abominably conceited,” recommended Nell.

“They won’t,” asserted Letty, with confidence. “No one I care a fig for, at all events, I daresay Felix might, for I never knew anyone so stuffy!”

However, when they presently saw Mr. Hethersett strolling in the Park there was nothing to be read in that stickler’s countenance but critical appreciation. Nell directed her coachman to pull up his horses, and when Mr. Hethersett came up to the carriage leaned forward to give him her hand. “How do you do? I hoped we might see you. Do you mean to go to the Beadings’ masquerade next week? Cardross has been obliged to cry off: isn’t it infamous of him? Will you dine with us, and give us your escort in his stead?”