e trailed out of the carriage sighing so deeply that I was terrified
lest the servant should hear. I shall never call on people unless I
want to see them. It does seem such a farce to grumble because they are
at home, and then to be sweet and pleasant when you meet.

Mrs Greaves was certainly very silent, but I liked her. She looked
worn and tired, but she had beautiful soft brown eyes which looked at
you and seemed to say a great deal more than her lips. Do you know the
kind of feeling when you like people and know they like you in return?
I was perfectly certain Mrs Greaves had taken a fancy to me before she
said, "I should like to introduce my daughter to you," and sent a
message upstairs by the servant. I wondered what the girl would be
like; a young edition of Mrs Greaves might be pretty, but there was an
expression on mother's face which made me uncertain. Then she came in,
a pale badly dressed girl, with a sweet face and shy awkward manners.
Her name was Rachel, and she took me to see the conservatory, and I
wondered what on earth we should find to say. Of course she asked first
of all--

"Are you fond of flowers?" and I remembered mother's rule and replied,
"Yes, I love them." That was four words, but it didn't seem to take us
much further somehow, so I made a terrific effort and added, "But I
don't know much about their names, do you?"

"Yes, I think I do. I feel as if it was a kind of courtesy we owe them
for giving us so much pleasure. We take it as a slight if our own
friends mispronounce or misspell our own names, and surely flowers
deserve as much consideration from us," quoth she.

Goodness! how frightfully proper and correct. I felt so quelled that
there was no more spirit left in me, and I followed her round listening
to her learned descriptions and saying, "How pretty!" "Oh, really!" in
the most feeble manner you can imagine.

All the while I was really looking at her more than the flowers, and
discovering lots of things. Number one--sweet eyes just like her
mother's; number two--sweet lips with tiny little white teeth like a
child's; number three--a long white throat above that awful collar.
Quotient--a girl who ought to be quite sweet, but who made herself a
fright. I wondered why! Did she think it wrong to look nice--but then,
if she did, why did she love the flowers just for that very reason?
Rachel Greaves! I thought the name sounded like her somehow--old-
fashioned, and prim,