y, turning kindly to her. "I know your name,
you see. I trust you will be happy here. Your chamber is this way,
Rhoda."

It was a long, narrow room, with a low whitewashed ceiling, across which
ran two beams. A pot-pourri stood on the little table in the centre,
and there were two beds, one single and one double.

"Who's to be here beside me?" inquired Rhoda.

"Oh, Mother would have given you and Phoebe a chamber to yourselves,"
replied Betty, "but we are so full of company, she felt herself obliged
to put in some one, so Gatty is coming to you."

"Can't it be Molly?" rather uncivilly suggested Rhoda.

Phoebe privately hoped it could not.

"Will, I think not," answered Betty, smiling. "Lady Diana Middleham
wants Molly. She's in great request."

"Who is,--me?" demanded Molly, appearing as if by magic in the doorway.
"Of course. I'm not going to sleep with you, Pug-nose. Not going to
sleep at all. Spend the night in tickling the people I like, and
running pins into those I don't. Fair warning!"

"I wonder whether it is better to be one you like, Molly, or one you
don't like," said Rhoda, laughing.

"I hope you don't like me in that regard," said Betty, laughing too.

"Well, I don't particularly," was Molly's frank answer, "so you'll get
the pins. Right about face! Stand--at--ease! Here comes Mum."

A very gorgeously dressed woman, all flounces and feathers as it seemed
to Phoebe, sailed into the room, kissed Rhoda, told her that she was
welcome, in a languishing voice, desired Betty to see her made
comfortable, informed Molly that her hair was out of curl, took no
notice of Phoebe, and sailed away again.

"I'm off!" Molly announced to the world. "There's Mr
What-do-you-call-him downstairs. Go and have some fun with him." And
Molly vanished accordingly.

Then Rhoda's unpacking had to be seen to by herself and Phoebe; that is
to say, Phoebe did it, and Rhoda sat and watched her, Betty flitted
about, talking to Rhoda, and helping Phoebe, till her name was called
from below, and away she went to respond to it. Phoebe, at least,
missed her, and thought her pleasant company. Whatever else she might
be, she was good-natured. When the unpacking was finished to her
satisfaction, Rhoda declared that she was perishing for hunger, and must
have something before she could dress. Before she could make up her
mind what to do, a rap came on the door, and a neat maid-servant entered
with a tray.

"An