summer
sunshine. Her thoughts flew back to the dreary London lodging where her
whole short life had been passed; her heart swelled as she thought of
the cares, troubles, anxieties, and bitter losses she had endured; and
then her eyes overflowed with gratitude at finding such kind friends and
such a beautiful home. At last, weary with her journey, she fell asleep.

After a while the sound of voices roused her, and in a bewildered kind
of way she looked round.

"I say she's an ugly, miserable-looking little thing. I shouldn't think
it worth my while to sketch her!" one voice said, contemptuously. "If
she had been pretty, now, she would have made a splendid Sleeping
Beauty!"

"She looks pale and ill, poor mite, and tired too; but she's not ugly,"
another voice said decidedly. "She might not make a nice picture, but
she looks pleasant enough curled up there. Come on away; don't let us
wake her."

"I am awake," said Agnes, sitting up, her cheeks flushed, her eyes full
of tears, but no one answered. The boys, who had been looking in at the
window of the housekeeper's room, had turned into the shrubbery, and
Agnes felt as if she had been guilty of a very mean, unworthy action in
listening, even involuntarily, to a conversation not intended for her
ears. Her cousins, too, she felt quite sure, would be exceedingly cross
if they knew she had overheard them; and yet she said to herself--"I was
only half awake. I did not want to listen, and I could not help it." It
would not mend matters in the least to tell them that she had overheard
their criticism, so she resolved to be silent, but when Mrs. Mittens
came, a little later, to conduct her to the dining-room, she was very
shy and nervous. As she took her place, she looked at the boys
wistfully, wondering which of them thought her "ugly," and which thought
her pleasant enough to look at curled up on the sofa. Secretly, she
hoped that Eddie was her champion, but before the dinner was over it
was easy enough to see that Bertie was going to be the shy little girl's
friend, for Eddie scarcely condescended to look at her, much less speak
to her, during the meal, while Bertie rattled on merrily, telling her of
all their favourite amusements and walks, and promising to show her all
his treasures and lend her his storybooks. Still, though Bertie was
kind, and Eddie cold and silent, Agnes thought her elder cousin was far
handsomer and cleverer than his brother. Perhaps he would be an art