for her small
victory, which nobody noticed, just as much as if it had been a great
one. She had, at any rate, one compensation to console her. Jean
Bannerman also lived at Waverton, and would travel home with Muriel and
herself, and she hoped it might be possible to see something of Jean
during the holidays. The breaking-up day arrived at last, and Patty,
after a warm good-bye to Enid, Winnie, and Avis, was put with her two
companions under the guardianship of Miss Rowe, who escorted them to the
junction, and saw them safely into the northern express. Even though she
was not going to her own home, Patty felt rather cheered at leaving The
Priory and starting upon a journey; and the prospect of Christmas and
its attendant festivities was an enlivening one.

She had a kind welcome from her uncle and aunt, and her cousin Horace,
who had returned from school the day before, also seemed pleased to see
her. Patty always liked Horace much better than Muriel. He was far
kinder to her, and would often ask her to help him with his photography,
or to arrange his cases of beetles, butterflies, and moths, entertaining
her the while with accounts of his adventures at school, some of which
were of such a thrilling description that she suspected they were made
up for her benefit. Muriel, who preferred to keep her brother to
herself, was jealous of this intimacy; she did not want to include Patty
in their family life, and though she did not dare to say so to her
parents, she secretly resented her cousin's presence. The two girls were
necessarily thrown much in each other's company, and so overbearing did
Muriel prove sometimes, that it needed all Patty's self-restraint to
prevent a quarrel. It was not pleasant to be ordered about, told to
fetch and carry, and receive no thanks for her pains; and particularly
disagreeable to be given to understand that she was an unwelcome
visitor, who ought to consider herself very fortunate to have been asked
at all. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Pearson had any idea how unkind Muriel was
to Patty in private; they were proud of their pretty little daughter,
and fondly liked to think she was everything they could desire: their
love made them blind to small indications of character, and so long as
they saw no glaring fault they thought all was well. Muriel from her
babyhood had been accustomed to expect her own way in everything. Her
father, mother, and brother had made a pet of her, and spoilt her so
entirely th