the big shady hat.

"Oh, do come in!" said Marcella, shyly; "Lady Winterbourne will be in
directly."

"So Panton told me," said Betty, sinking down on a high stool beside
Marcella's chair, and taking off her hat; "and Panton doesn't tell _me_
any stories _now_--I've trained him. I wonder how many he tells in the
day? Don't you think there will be a special little corner of purgatory
for London butlers? I hope Panton will get off easy!"

Then she laid her sharp chin on her tiny hand, and studied Marcella.
Miss Boyce was in the light black dress that Minta approved; her pale
face and delicate hands stood out from it with a sort of noble emphasis.
When Betty had first heard of Marcella Boyce as the heroine of a certain
story, she had thought of her as a girl one would like to meet, if only
to prick her somehow for breaking the heart of a good man. Now that she
saw her close she felt herself near to falling in love with her.
Moreover, the incident of the fight and of Miss Boyce's share in it had
thrilled a creature all susceptibility and curiosity; and the little
merry thing would sit hushed, looking at the heroine of it, awed by the
thought of what a girl only two years older than herself must have
already seen of sin and tragedy, envying her with all her heart, and by
contrast honesty despising--for the moment--that very happy and popular
person, Betty Macdonald!

"Do you like being alone?" she asked Marcella, abruptly.

Marcella coloured.

"Well, I was just getting very tired of my own company," she said. "I
was very glad to see you come in."

"Were you?" said Betty, joyously, with a little gleam in her pretty
eyes. Then suddenly the golden head bent forward. "May I kiss you?" she
said, in the wistfullest, eagerest voice.

Marcella smiled, and, laying her hand on Betty's, shyly drew her.

"That's better!" said Betty, with a long breath. "That's the second
milestone; the first was when I saw you on the Terrace. Couldn't you
mark all your friendships by little white stones? I could. But the
horrid thing is when you have to mark them back again! Nobody ever did
that with you!"

"Because I have no friends," said Marcella, quickly; then, when Betty
clapped her hands in amazement at such a speech, she added quickly with
a smile, "except a few I make poultices for."

"There!" said Betty, enviously, "to think of being really _wanted_--for
poultices--or, anything! I never was wanted in my life! When I die
they'll p