t guess things well," she said. "Is one of your aunts coming?"

"My aunts!" repeated Rhoda, in supreme scorn. "Not if I know it, thank
you. I said it was jolly. Why, Phoebe! to guess such a thing as that!"

"Well, I should be pleased enough if mine were coming to see me," said
Phoebe, good-temperedly. "I don't know what else to guess. Has some
one given you a present?"

"Wish they had!" ejaculated Rhoda. "No, I'm sorry to say nobody's had
so much good sense. But there's somebody--I shall have to tell you
sooner or later, you stupid goose, so I may as well do it now--
somebody's coming to Number Four. Mrs Eleanor Darcy, a cousin of my
Lord Polesworth--only think!--and (that's best of all) she's got a
nephew."

"How is that best of all?" asked Phoebe.

"Mr Marcus Welles--isn't it a pretty name?--and he will come with her,
to settle her in her new house. `_Why_?' Oh, what a silly Phoebe you
are! He has three thousand a year."

"Then I should think he might take better care of his aunt than let her
be an indigent gentlewoman," said Phoebe, rather warmly.

"As if he would want to be pothered with an old aunt!" cried Rhoda.
"But I'll tell you what (you are so silly, you want telling
everything!)--I mean to set my cap at him."

"Won't you have some cleaner lace on it first?" suggested Phoebe, with
the exceedingly quiet, dry fun which was one of her characteristics.

"You stupid, literal thing!" said Rhoda. "I might as well talk to the
cat. Oh, here you come, Molly! Now for tea, if 'tis ready, and then--"

Madam was already at the tea-table, and Baxter was just bringing in the
kettle.

"I trust you have had a pleasant walk, my dears," said she, kindly, as
the four girls filed in--Molly first, Phoebe last.

"Middling," said Molly, taking the initiative as usual. "Robbed
seventeen birds' nests, climbed twenty-four trees, and jumped over a
dozen five-barred gates."

"Oh, did you!" murmured Phoebe, in a shocked tone, too horrified for
silence.

Rhoda went into convulsions behind her handkerchief.

"Innocent little darling!" exclaimed Molly; "she thinks we did!"

"You said so," answered Phoebe, reproachfully.

"You are so smart, my dear Mrs Molly," said Madam, smilingly. "Did you
all walk together?"

"No, I thank you!" responded Molly. "Gatty and the innocent little dear
went to a Quakers' meeting."

Had Madam taken the assertion literally, she would have been alarmed and
horrified indeed; f