gardening, as it was quite early. She called Harriet, who
had recovered from the insult to St. James's, and together
they went to the kitchen garden and began to sow some early
vegetables.

"We will save the peas to the last; they are the
greatest fun," said Mrs. Herriton, who had the gift of
making work a treat. She and her elderly daughter always
got on very well, though they had not a great deal in
common. Harriet's education had been almost too
successful. As Philip once said, she had "bolted all the
cardinal virtues and couldn't digest them." Though pious
and patriotic, and a great moral asset for the house, she
lacked that pliancy and tact which her mother so much
valued, and had expected her to pick up for herself.
Harriet, if she had been allowed, would have driven Lilia to
an open rupture, and, what was worse, she would have done
the same to Philip two years before, when he returned full
of passion for Italy, and ridiculing Sawston and its ways.

"It's a shame, Mother!" she had cried. "Philip laughs
at everything--the Book Club, the Debating Society, the
Progressive Whist, the bazaars. People won't like it. We
have our reputation. A house divided against itself cannot stand."

Mrs. Herriton replied in the memorable words, "Let
Philip say what he likes, and he will let us do what we
like." And Harriet had acquiesced.

They sowed the duller vegetables first, and a pleasant