"What prince? Oh, I see, Cinderella's. But Cinderella went magnificently to her evening party—not in cheap and nasty stuffs cobbled up anyhow."
"The prince wouldn't see that. He'd be disconsolate when I disappeared at twelve o'clock, and he'd send all over the country to find the fit of my glass slipper, and Molly and Pam would cry tears of rage because it wouldn't even fit on their toes."
"You're not ball-going, minx."
"It will be just as good. There'll be a beautiful dinner, and everyone in the county there, and afterwards there will be acres of beautiful things to see. It is a thousand pities Mr. Vandaleur is an absentee."
"If he wasn't, he wouldn't have to remind you of his existence now," said the old lady cynically. "But am I to be chaperon?"
"Well, I'll tell you what, Miss Spencer," said Mr. Graydon. "If you'd take charge of these children, I'd be greatly obliged to you. The fact is that I've to attend a sort of unofficial meeting of Vandaleur's supporters in the afternoon, and he has hospitably offered me a bed. So I thought I'd take my bag over and dress there after the meeting."
"And stay all night? I knew it," cried Sylvia. "Papa pretended it was such a bother, and all the time he was longing to be in for every bit of it. Only he didn't know what to do with us."
Mr. Graydon laughed.
"Maybe you wouldn't like it yourself. I shall be button-holed by Musgrave and Frost and Clitheroe, and every man in the county who thinks he has a head for politics and wants a patient listener."
"And you will go at it hammer and tongs with the best of them, and forget you have daughters. I don't suppose you'll even remember at dinner-time to see whether anyone is asking us if we've an appetite."