Mrs.Stuart asked her about her Sundays, and whether she ever got out of town.

"Oh," she said, with a sigh and a look at her uncle, who was standing near, "I think Sunday is the hardest day of all.

It is our 'at home' day, and such crowds come--just to look at me, I suppose, for I cannot talk to a quarter of them." Whereupon Mr.
Worrall said in his bland commercial way that society had its burdens as well as its pleasures, and that his dear niece could hardly escape her social duties after the flattering manner in which London had welcomed her.

Miss Bretherton answered, with a sort of languid rebellion, that her social duties would soon be the death of her.

But evidently she is very docile at home, and they do what they like with her.