arse, home-made stockings; the rough, hobnailed
boots; the small tam-o'-shanter caps, pushed far back from the little
faces; the uncouth worsted gloves; and then the deal boxes! He had a
kind of notion that things were very wrong, and that the girls did not
look a bit at his own darling Fanny looked, nor in the least like the
other girls he had seen at Haddo Court. But Sir John Crawford had been a
widower for years, and during that time had seen little of women. He had
not the least idea how to remedy what looked a little out of place even
at Craigie Muir, but now that they were flying south looked much worse.
Could he possibly spare the time to spend a day in a London hotel, and
buy the girls proper toilets, and have their clothes put into regulation
trunks? But no, in the first place, he had not the time; in the second,
he would not have the slightest idea what to order.

They all arrived in London late in the evening. Sylvia and Hetty had
been asleep during the latter part of the journey, but Betty still sat
bolt upright and wide awake. It was dusk now, and the lamp in the
carriage was lit. It seemed to throw a shadow on the girl's miserable
face. She was very young--only the same age as Sir John's dear Fanny;
and yet how different, how pale, how full of inexpressible sadness was
that little face! Those gray eyes of hers seemed to haunt him! He was
the kindest man on earth, and would have given worlds to comfort her;
but he did not know what to do.

CHAPTER IV

RECEPTION AT HADDO COURT

Having made up her mind to receive the Vivian girls, Mrs. Haddo arranged
matters quite calmly and to her entire satisfaction. There was no fuss
or commotion of any kind; and when Sir John appeared on the following
morning, with the six deal boxes and the three girls dressed in their
coarse Highland garments, they were all received immediately in Mrs.
Haddo's private sitting-room.

"I have brought the girls, Mrs. Haddo," said Sir John. "This is Betty.
Come forward, my dear, and shake hands with your new mistress."

"How old are you?" asked Mrs. Haddo.

"I was sixteen my last birthday, and that was six months ago, and one
fortnight and three days," replied Betty in a very distinct voice,
holding herself bolt upright, and looking with those strange eyes full
into Mrs. Haddo's face. She spoke with extreme defiance. But she
suddenly met a rebuff--a kind of rebuff that she did not expect; for
Mrs. Haddo's eyes looked back at