es, the wings on the garden side. In this one
my aunt's rooms are, and Miss Piper, her white nigger, and the other is
Theodora's.'

'And all these opposite doors?'

'Those four belong to my father and mother; these two are John's. His
sitting-room is the best in the house. The place is altogether too big
for comfort. Our little parlour at Winchester was twice as snug as that
overgrown drawing-room down-stairs.'

'Dear little room! I hope we may go back to it. But what a view from
this end window! That avenue is the most beautiful thing I have seen
yet. It looks much older than the house.'

'It is. My father built the house, but we were an old county family long
before. The old Admiral, the first lord, had the peerage settled on my
father, who was his nephew and head of the family, and he and my Aunt
Nesbit having been old friends in the West Indies, met at Bath, and
cooked up the match. He wanted a fortune for his nephew, and she wanted
a coronet for her niece! I can't think how she came to be satisfied with
a trumpery Irish one. You stare, Violet; but that is my aunt's notion
of managing, and the way she meant to deal with all of us. She has
monstrous hoards of her own, which she thinks give her a right to rule.
She has always given out that she meant the chief of them for me, and
treated me accordingly, but I am afraid she has got into a desperately
bad temper now, and we must get her out of it as best we can.'

This not very encouraging speech was made as they stood looking from the
gallery window. Some one came near, and Violet started. It was a
very fashionably-dressed personage, who, making a sort of patronizing
sweeping bend, said, 'I was just about to send a person to assist Mrs.
Martindale. I hope you will ring whenever you require anything. The
under lady's maid will be most happy to attend you.'

'There,' said Arthur, as the lady passed on, 'that is the greatest
person in the house, hardly excepting my aunt. That is Miss Altisidora
Standaloft, her ladyship's own maid.'

Violet's feelings might somewhat resemble those of the Emperor Julian
when he sent for a barber, and there came a count of the empire.

'She must have wanted to look at you,' proceeded Arthur, 'or she would
never have treated us with such affability. But come along, here is
Theodora's room.'

It was a cheerful apartment, hung with prints, with somewhat of a
school-room aspect, and in much disorder. Books and music lay confused
with