"But you don't go to it," observed Cicely, suggestively.
"No. I haven't attended a service there as yet. But I don't say I never will attend one. That will depend on circumstances."
"I remember you always hated parsons," said Cicely, thoughtfully.
Maryllia laughed.
"Yes, I always did!"
"And you always will, I suppose?"
"Well, I expect I shall have to tolerate Mr. Walden,"--Maryllia answered lightly,--"Because he's really my nearest neighbour. But he's not so bad as most of his class."
"I daresay he's a better type of man than Lord Roxmouth," said Cicely. "By the way, Maryllia, that highly distinguished nobleman has spread about a report that you are 'peculiar,' simply because you won't marry him? The very nuns at the Convent have heard this, and it does make me so angry! For when people get hold of the word 'peculiar,' it is made to mean several things."
"I know!" and for a moment Maryllia's fair brows clouded with a shadow of perplexity and annoyance--"It is a word that may pass for madness, badness, or any form of social undesirability. But I don't mind! I'm quite aware that Roxmouth, if he cannot marry me, will slander me. It's a way some modern men have of covering their own rejection and defeat. The woman in question is branded through the 'smart set' as 'peculiar,' 'difficult,' 'impossible to deal with'-- oh yes!--I know it all! But I'm prepared for it--and just to forestall Roxmouth a little, I'm going to have a few people down here by way of witnesses to my '-peculiar' mode of life. Then they can go back to London and talk."
"They can, and they will,--you may be sure of that!" said Cicely, satirically--"Is this a 'dressed' county, Maryllia?"
Maryllia gave vent to a peal of laughter.
"I should say not,--but I really don't know!" she replied,--"People have called on me, but I have not, as yet, returned their calls. We'll do that in this coming week. The only person I have seen, who poses as a 'county' lady, is an elderly spinster named Tabitha Pippitt, only daughter of Sir Morton Pippitt, who is a colonial manufacturer, and, therefore, not actually in the 'county' at all. Miss Tabitha was certainly not 'dressed,' she was merely covered."
"That's the very height of propriety!" declared Cicely--"For, after all, covering alone is necessary. 'Dress,' in the full sense of the word, implies vanity and all its attendant sins. Gigue says you can always pick out a very dull, respectable woman by the hidecmsness of her clothes. I expect Miss Tabitha is dull."