Agar, like many a wiser person, began, therefore, to bang about
in all directions, hitting not only the iron but the anvil, her own
knuckles and the susceptibilities of any one standing in the
neighbourhood. She could not leave things to Mr. Glynde, but must needs
see Dora herself. She had in her mind the nucleus of a simple if
scurrilous scheme which will show itself hereafter. Her opportunity
presented itself a few days later.
A neighbouring family counting itself county, presumably on the strength
of never being able to absent themselves from the favoured neighbourhood
on account of monetary incapacity, gave its annual garden-party at this
time. To this entertainment the whole countryside was in the habit of
repairing--not with an idea of enjoying itself, but because everybody did
it. To be bidden to this garden-party was in itself a _cachet_ of
respectability. This indeed was the only satisfaction to be gathered from
the festivity. If the honour was great, the hospitality was small.
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